The War of Three Queens
by xXNotTodayXx
Summary: Left dying in the Forbidden Forest, Hermione was rescued by the most unlikely savior, the dragon she had stolen from Gringotts. He bathed her in his flames and when she woke she found she was no longer Hermione Granger. In this new world, she was Hermione Lannister.
1. Prologue

So, I wasn't going to post any of this until I had done about 20 chapters but I need a little motivation after losing chapters to the horrible BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH!

You'll notice some characters have OOC moments but I swear they happen for a reason that you'll find out about later…much later.

If you want to leave a review, go ahead, otherwise I just hope you enjoy the chaos that is my brain spilling out onto paper…digitally speaking anyway.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter or Game of Thrones

**Prologue**

It wasn't meant to end this way. They were meant to destroy all the Horcrux's, defeat Voldemort and his army and rebuild the magic world in a new era of peace. Sure, there would be casualties on both sides but what war doesn't? The Weasley's had already lost Fred. Remus and Tonks had been laid out inside the Great Hall and she had killed a werewolf not long ago who was mutilating her old roommate, Lavender Brown's.

Now it seemed she was on the chopping block as well.

Voldemort had brought back Harry Potter's body to present to them, to get them to give up but Neville bloody Longbottom had put a stop to that. He had drawn the sword of Gryffindor from the old Sorting Hat and rallied the rest of them to continue to fight back. He had also given Harry the chance he needed to surprise Voldemort with the fact that he was still alive and to have a second chance at defeating him.

Unfortunately for Hermione, she had been separated from the main battle and was now running through the Forbidden Forest throwing spell after spell behind her as a group of Death Eaters led by Fenrir Greyback chased her through the foliage.

She screamed as she tripped over a tree root and went tumbling down an embankment and into a clearing. The sun shone down through the opening of the trees, illuminating her figure for her enemies to see. Standing quickly, she drew her wand and held it at the ready, unsure exactly which direction they may come from.

"Come on now little Mudblood," a raspy voice sounded from the trees as the leave rustled and branches snapped, "Do you really think you're a match for all of us?"

"You've got no where to run now poppet," a maniacal voice cackled from her left.

Sure enough, she looked around the clearing seeing that it was surrounded by a circular embankment, effectively trapping her inside unless she wanted to attempt running and struggling up the steep hills.

Panic started to swell in her chest as figures slowly emerged from the trees, forming a semi-circle on top of the bank. Their black coats were torn and dirty and each of them had forgone their masks so she could clearly see their faces. She didn't recognise any except Greyback so they must be low level underlings she thought

They looked down at her with evil grins promising nothing but pain and death. Their gazes penetrated her soul and she knew she couldn't take them on her own.

'I'm a bloody Gryffindor,' she thought to herself trying to shake off her fear, 'If I go down, I'll take as many as I can with me.'

With her determination renewed she turned her fiery gaze towards her foes.

"Expelliarmus!"

She managed to take one by surprise though he moved at the last second and was instead blasted back into the forest with his wand still firmly in his grasp.

"Protego."

Multiple spells bounced off her shield but Greyback was quickly descending the slope and advancing towards her. He growled menacingly as he took heavy steps towards her. Thinking quickly, she spouted out a combination of spells aimed at the Death Eaters up on the hill before throwing the last one at the advancing werewolf.

"Bombarda Maxima."

"Avis, Oppugno."

"Conjunctivitis."

Greyback howled and grabbed his eyes in pain as the curse took effect. There were only four Death Eaters left above them, but they were busy trying to banish her birds and recovering from the explosion that sent them flying.

Hermione staggered backwards as Fenrir leapt forwards and slashed his claws through the air. Barely managing to escape the sharp talons in time, Hermione ducked to the side and desperately tried to keep an eye on the advancing threat as well as the commotion now happening to the side of her.

"Bloody birds!" one exclaimed as she sent another curse their way, once again throwing them off their feet, their screams echoing in the otherwise silent forest.

Greyback didn't miss a beat, he turned towards her and leapt again, this time managing to grasp her by her throat, hauling her into the air.

"Did you really think that would work on me girly?" he growled in her face. His breath smelt like death, covered in fresh and dried blood with pieces of flesh and bone stuck in his yellow fangs. Hermione's heart was pounding in her chest, she was no match for him.

"I'm a werewolf darling, or did you forget?" he teased running a talon down the side of her neck and bringing it forward to raise her chin, "I don't need to see to be able to tell where you are, you smell good enough to eat."

Cringing at the feel of a wet tongue on her cheek, she turned her head to the side hoping to provide herself with some relief from his touch.

"The Dark Lord wants you dead," he started, "But I think I wanna play with you a bit first."

"He won't win," Hermione bit out, "I'll bet he's already dead."

Greyback laughed at her bravado, he knew it wouldn't last long once he got started.

"Leave her to me boys," he called out to the other Death Eaters, "Run back to your Lord."

She heard faint shuffling in the forest and some nasty comments thrown back at the werewolf but she knew that even they were smart enough not to go up against this monster. She was quickly thrown to the ground and her top shredded before she could really gather her bearings.

Her head spun and ears rang from the impact her skull had made with the harsh ground. The landscape dug into her skin, lightly tearing at her skin. Though disorientated, she refused to give up.

She screamed and tried to fight back, throwing her fists at his face and kicking out with her legs but she just physically was not capable of overpowering this fiend. Her wand had been dislodged from her hand when she hit the ground and unfortunately, she couldn't find it beneath the leaves that littered the damp ground.

The male above her just continued to laugh at her fear, her panic and her feeble attempts of escape. Though managed to get a few hits in, it barely registered in the werewolf's mind. One hand grasped both of her wrists above her head while the other trailed along her body, over the curve of her breasts and down to grip her hip tightly.

His sharp claws left painful scratches and lacerations all down her body and Hermione could do nothing but cry silently, almost accepting her fate. She had been tortured before, back in Malfoy Manor but it was nothing compared to the fear that this man made her feel. Back then it was just a blade against her skin, her attacker needing information.

This was different.

This was a savage beast playing with his prey, breaking them until they had no hope left, no fight left in their spirit, before taking the plunge and devouring her whole. His touch made her feel dirty and she would give anything to burn away the feeling. He was rough and primal and savage. He revelled in her pain, her cries and her tears. She had never felt so weak before, so helpless.

'Help me,' she called out in her mind wishing anybody, absolutely anybody, would hear her pleas. Her body was now stained with blood, dirt and saliva from the monstrosity currently playing with her body. Gone were her jeans, her underwear torn off and thrown to the side.

She lay there sprawled naked on the ground as Greyback made a particularly large gash on her stomach. Lapping up the blood now pouring from the deep wounds in her stomach, Greyback didn't notice the flicker of a large shadow passing above them.

'I must be seeing things,' Hermione thought in dismay as the sun shone through the trees again, seeming to taunt her with the spotlight it had her in.

"I wanna hear you scream girly," Greyback grunted above her. Hermione had no time to register those words before she felt a pain like no other. He had shoved his claws up her vagina, breaking her womanhood and tearing at her insides. Her screams and cries filled the area as her body convulsed painfully on the ground.

"Please stop," she begged.

"Not so tough now are you Mudblood," he cackled as he moved his disgusting digits in and out of her. She could feel the blood pooling around her legs as he continued to shred her from the inside out and pump his own shaft. Hermione continued to scream and shout for him to stop and just as she felt like she was on the boarder of unconsciousness he growled and smacked her cheek.

"Don't you know its rude to fall asleep when in the presence of your superiors."

Hermione couldn't even respond. She was lightheaded, likely from blood loss, and she could feel her body growing cold. He had released her wrists and her arms were now spread out on either side of her. Even in her numbed state she felt the warm touch of her wand at her fingertips, calling to her.

Making sure that he was distracted, she grasped the familiar vine wood wand. Mustering up the remaining strength she had she fired off one last spell.

"Expelliarmus."

Not expecting his victim to have the energy or will to fight him, Greyback was hit at full force by the offending spell. His claws tore at her nether regions spraying blood all over the ground. Hermione tried to fire off another spell, but her body betrayed her, she had lost too much blood and was too weak.

Her arm dropped to the ground; her wand lost to her once more.

"You fucking bitch!" the werewolf screamed as he scrambled up from the ground. His growls could be heard throughout the forest as the crunch of the leaves and branches littering the ground could got closer and closer.

"You'll be begging me for death by the time I'm finished with you."

"I do not fear death," Hermione retorted softly as a small accepting smile graced her pale lips.

"You will," he snarled down at her prone form.

Claws paused mid air as a deafening screech resounded above the pair. The sun was quickly shrouded by a large form lowering itself into the clearing, demolishing trees and leaving the remains tumbling through the sudden onslaught of wind.

Greyback starred up at the colossal creature in front of him and stepped back. The form gazed deep into his soul, barring his teeth and spreading his wings as far as they could go. The male slowly backed away from the intimidating creature in front of him, completely forgetting about his prey.

Hermione lazily opened her eyes as another screech broke through the quiet of the forest following the snap of a tree branch. Greyback wasted no time in turning and hightailing it up the embankment.

No that it saved him anyway.

Scorching heat and fire flew overhead encompassing the fleeing man and swallowed his pained cries. The forest quickly caught ablaze and spread throughout around the clearing.

'This is it,' she thought, 'Hopefully it will be quick.'

The rumbling of the creature drew her attention as she dropped her head to the side to stare at the giant Ukrainian Ironbelly looking down at her. Her vision was starting to blue but there was no mistaking the blood red eyes penetrating her very soul.

"I know you," she whispered upon recognising the torn and tattered wings and body of the dragon she had used to escape Gringotts. The dragon lowered his head, almost in acknowledgement before closing its eyes, bending its incredibly large head and placing it flush against her dying body.

"If that's a 'thank you'," she started hoarsely, "Then you are very welcome."

The dragon stayed still for what felt like hours, its heated breathing softly caressing Hermione's cold flesh as the life drained out of her until there was nothing left. With one final exhale the creature moved to stand at full height and gazed at the deceased woman. Flames seeped out of it's opening maw before raining down and claiming the body until all that remained was her ashes drifting through the wind.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or Game of Thrones

**Chapter 1 **

Spring in Westeros was beautiful, flowers bloomed all over the countryside and the animals emerged from their dens and nests with their new families. Tonight, however the skies darkened and let loose an unforgiving storm.

These clouds were dark and full of terrors. The crack of thunder could be heard for miles and it accompanying lightning was harsh, streaking through the night sky, splitting trees in half while the rain came down in heavy torrential sheets.

There was only one sound that could be heard over the storm, the cries of a woman in pain.

Within a small cottage in a small village near the outskirts of Lannisport lay a woman, dark of hair and pale skin that gleamed with sweat. Her white gown was soaked through as her hand gripped that of a much smaller man. He had golden locks with bright green eyes. He grasped one of her hands in both of his as he looked at her with concern.

"You're doing great my love," he said to her, his voice trembling ever so slightly. He tried to ignore the bustle of the maester at the bottom of the bed where his wife's legs were bent up and spread wide open. The maester was ordering around a much younger boy, an apprentice who was running around grabbing water, clothes and herbs.

"Push Tysha, you can do this my love," he repeated, "She's almost here, just hold on a little longer."

Tysha grunted in response, she could feel her babe breaching through her opening, she would only need to push a little more before her beloved daughter would make her entrance into this world.

Along with the overwhelming happiness also came fear and a sense of defeat. She didn't need to see the maesters face or the bedsheets to know she had lost too much blood.

She wasn't going to live to see the morrow, but she would be damned if her babe didn't make it. She knew in her soul that her child would have a long and happy life, destined to do great things, oh she would be great. She swore that all the kingdoms would come to know her child.

The thunder and rain continued to roar outside, and they could feel the house shake a little from the severe winds.

"I will not make it my beloved," she whispered tiredly, "You must promise me, that you will take care of her, your father cannot have her."

She had never feared anything or anyone in her life, she had been through too much, as was expected of the life of a common whore. She had never feared anyone except her beloved's father, Tywin Lannister. They had gotten married in secret by a drunk Septon and all it had taken was for him to sober up and go running to the Lord Lannister.

Not two weeks later he was barging into their home, the small cottage they currently resided in. It was the single most terrifying moment of her life.

"_You dare tarnish our name by marrying a filthy whore," he thundered as a few of his guards entered the room. _

_Tyrion was on his feet in an instance. Small though he was, a dwarf and half the reason his father hated him, he was also incredibly smart and brave. The traits of a real lion. _

"_She is my wife and you will not speak to her in such a way," he demanded. Being of only six and ten he didn't have a leg to stand on if they should decide to kill her, but he loved her, and he would do whatever he could to protect her. _

"_I will speak however I so please Tyrion," Tywin sneered as he looked at the woman sitting near the fireplace. She had long dark hair, pale skin and violet eyes._

_He knew those eyes. _

"_A common whore," Tywin mused as he stepped closer to the woman. Tyrion tried to step in between them but his father simply pushed him aside to be held back by his guards. _

_The woman closed her eyes in fear as Tywin grasped her chin. He yanked her up to a standing position and tilted her head up. _

"_Open your eyes woman," he ordered and with a small whimper she did as he asked. The startling violet starred back at him in terror, her body trembling. He let a small smirk grace his features. _

"_Not exactly a commoner then but still a whore," he chuckled. He let her go where she fell back into her chair with a quiet sob. _

"_Father?" Tyrion asked warily as his father made his way back to him and dismissed his guards._

"_Did you honestly think you could hide her linage from me?" he asked, "She may be dark of hair but the rest of her is Targaryen. I ordered the murder of Elia Martell and her children and allied with Robert Baratheon to end the Targaryen line. Tell me son why should I not kill this one right now?" _

_Tyrion knew his father was mocking him. Trying to get a rise out of him so that he would slip up and allow him the chance to kill his beloved before his very eyes._

"_Two Targaryen's got away didn't they?" he said quickly, "If one day they decide to come back and take the Iron Throne we can always use her as a bargaining chip to deter them. A hostage situation if you will."_

"_And if she ever births children?" _

"_Then it would be all the more in our favour. I highly doubt the two remaining dragons will want to lose even one more of their kind let alone multiple," he scrambled, "They would want their Dynasty back even if that included a half breed."_

"_And if they should try to take the throne?" _

"_We would raise them as Lannister's, never let them know of my lineage," Tysha said quietly from behind the two men, "They would not be a threat my Lord I swear, they will be lions and lions alone." _

"_They will never amount to anything," Tywin grinned evilly, "They may be Lannister in name but they will never claim the title of Lord of Casterly Rock and if you have daughters they will be lucky to wed a bastard." _

"_I would accept that," Tyrion said quickly as he stood beside his wife, "I know I can never claim that title and neither can my children."_

"_And should Robert find out who she is?" _

"_He won't, he will never meet her, he has no need to. The war is barely over and he has much to do now as King, too much to bother with the child of a Dwarf."_

_Tywin regarded his youngest and most disappointing child of them all, he didn't see why he got to live happy when he tore his mother from this world and brought shame to his house by being a half-man monstrosity but something else sparked in his mind. _

"_I will leave you alone in marital bliss," Tywin finally stated leaving both Tyrion and Tysha shocked, "But mark my words Tyrion, any child of yours will be just like you, it will rip the mother from this world and you will hate it just as much as I hate you for killing your own mother. That would be much more satisfying that simply killing her myself, I will let you and your devil spawn do it for me."_

_He left the small cottage after that thinking he had won and would someday see the dwarf wallow in his misery, he may even kill himself and drown the child he thought gleefully. _

_He was so wrapped up in his horrid thoughts that he never saw the hate and determination in his son's eyes. _

_Tyrion would be damned if he ever turned out like his father, he would love his child no matter what. He would raise a new type of Lannister; brave, smart and fierce to the core, a real lion. _

"Never," he promised, "I would rather kill him then let anyone put a hand on her. We will take care of her together."

Tyrion was grasping at straws, he knew his father's words were coming true, his wife was dying from childbirth. He knew it, she knew it, but he had to be strong.

"Her name, she will be my little Hermione, after the woman who raised me, Hermione Lannister," Tysha gasped after letting out another push. The storm seemed to be coming to a high, the winds rattled the doors and the fireplace seemed to roar to life.

"Of course," the Tyrion choked out, "But I need you to push my dear or you will both perish."

Tysha gave her husband a tired but loving smile, she would push for the sake of their child, for their daughter for she could not be convinced it was a boy. The maester gave her the order to push one more time and push she did, with every fibre of her being. The pain was overwhelming but when she heard the first cry of her daughter she instantly relaxed, feeling utterly joyful, relieved and free.

"My baby," she whispered as the maester took her away to be cleaned, "Tyrion, my love."

"I'm here," he said as he moved further up towards her head. The storm outside was dying down, the doors ceased their rattling and the fireplace calmed down to nothing but embers, the only light coming from the lanterns and few candles placed around the room

"I told your father she would be a lion and only a lion," she started, "I lied. She will be a lion but she will also be a dragon, please let her know of her heritage but don't let the madness take over. Our baby is destined for greatness, I just know it."

"Quiet my love," Tyrion warned as he glanced at the two men in the room, "I will do as you ask."

"I'm fading," she sighed as she closed her eyes, "I love you."

"I love you too, you can let go now," Tyrion replied as tears slowly dripped down his face. He could feel Tysha's hand slowly become limp in his own as the Maester returned to the bedside.

"I am terribly sorry my Lord, nothing we did could have saved her I'm afraid," he said solemnly, "But you have one strong babe."

Tyron lifted his head and shakily raised his arms as his daughter was handed over to him. The Maesters decided to give him the room for a few minutes, to leave the man in peace while he celebrated the birth of his daughter and mourn the loss of his wife.

"My little Hermione, my little dragon in disguise," he whispered, "I don't care if I have to face an army of the dead men or the gods themselves, I will always protect you."


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or Game of Thrones

**Chapter 2**

Sixteen years on and a lot had changed in Westeros.

King Robert of House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector the Realm reigned for six and ten years with Jon Arryn at his side as his Hand. Peace blanketed the realm although that was not to say that it was in any way prospering. More and more people were struggling to feed themselves, cloth themselves and keep a roof over their heads.

The worst took hold of King's Landing where the people of Flea Bottom wore rags, picked food from the trash and drank dirty water. They couldn't bath themselves or keep themselves clean, the place and the people were infested with disease and absolute poverty while the King, the Protector of the Realm and people, did only two things, drink and whore his way through his reign.

Tyrion's older brother, Jamie Lannister, had taken up his old position has head of the Kingsguard while his twin sister became Robert's Queen, birthing him a son and heir, Joffrey Baratheon and then two more children Marcella and Tommen. Tyrion had gone back to live in Casterly Rock and only visited King's Landing a handful of times, trying to avoid his family as much as possible since the death of his beloved Tysha and never once taking his daughter with him.

The first time his father had seen him when he returned to Casterly Rock, he was full of mockery and anger. Tywin had of course let them stay, he would publicly dishonour himself if he didn't, however he would use his time at meals making small snips at the death of Tyrion's wife and the fact that she was a whore.

Tywin refused to see Hermione, he didn't want anything to do with her, and he had more important matters to deal with than that of his first grandchild. He was more invested in the marriage and birth of Cercei's children, the heirs of the crown. Joffrey was three years younger than Hermione who had become Tyrion's world.

It wasn't until Hermione was four that Tywin met her. She didn't know who he was when she had slipped out of her room to roam the castle looking for the library, she liked to teach herself to read, she found that she had a love of learning things, she wanted to know everything and her Septa refused to teach her such advanced knowledge.

He was going about his duties as Lord when she carelessly bumped into him. He grunted as she stood up to introduce herself with all the poise and politeness of a trueborn lady.

"Apologies, I should have been looking where I was going," she said cutely, "My name is Hermione Lannister, may I ask who you are?"

He responded with a sneer and her eyes widened in awe and recognition. She replied with smiles and respect, her father had warned her not to mess with her grandfather as he could be cold and unforgiving. She decided to try her luck, surely he wouldn't hurt a four year old little girl, and asked him to show her the library. He had been taken aback but when she started to ramble about learning about the 'Great House Lannister' he couldn't help but feel a small hint of pride.

'How strange,' he had thought.

As he walked her to the library he took in her appearance. Dark blonde hair, pale skin, average of height for a girl her age but unfortunately, she had inherited her mother's eyes, the violet of the House Targaryen. Luckily, in the right light they could almost pass off as blue. It was then that Tywin decided he would take an interest in his eldest grandchild. Who knows what uses she may have in the future?

Hermione was no fool, even at her young age, she knew her grandfather was not a nice man and it wasn't simply because of the stories her father told.

Her grandfather had cold, calculating eyes that chilled Hermione to the bone. Sure, there were moments when he would genuinely laugh at something she said or praised her knowledge but overall, she knew he was a bad man who only saw her as a pawn he could use.

It was when Hermione turned five the dreams started. She would wake up in the middle of the night, sometimes crying, sometimes screaming. Strange things happened when she was dreaming. The ground would shake, the unlit torches would come to life and the wind would rattle the windows until they near fell away completely.

Tyrion would be at her side in minutes calming her down. She would cry about people that Tyrion knew nothing of, she would tell tales that left him speechless. The things she told him, she couldn't have made them up, he must be the gods giving her these dreams, he had no other explanation.

Then at six she crept into her father's bed one night, he started awake and she quickly apologised.

"_Father, I had a dream again," she stated. He sat up and brought her into his arms, she was just taller than him so it wasn't as easy as it used to be but she let herself relax against him._

"_What horrors did the gods gift you with tonight my dear?"_

"_Memories," she said simply, "All the dreams I have been having, they are memories from before I was here. When I was someone else."_

_Tyrion was shocked, she must have gone mad or sick. _

"_I'm serious father," she said as she turned to face her father with an expression that spoke of wisdom and a tiredness that he had seen only in soldiers that had been in battle. _

"_My name was Hermione Granger and I was a witch. I looked a little different though, my eyes and hair were brown, not blonde like all Lannister's are. Anyway, I went to magical school where I made friends, their names were Harry and Ron. We were sorted into a house called Gryffindor and our symbol was a Lion, like the Lannister's and our colours were red and gold too. Harry was cursed though, a bad man wanted to kill him. At seven and ten we left school to fight a war, a lot of people died, even me."_

"_My dear that sounds awfully fantastical, surely it was just a dream," Tyrion tried to convince her. _

"_No," Hermione bit back with a violent shake of her dark golden curls, "It wasn't a dream, I'll show you."_

_Tyrion sat back as his daughter stood up and reached her hand out to the air. He watched in fascination as her eyebrows crinkled in concentration and a determined look etched itself into her features. _

"_Fuck!" he shouted as a goblet flew straight into her hand. He jumped out of bed in fright before taking a few deep breaths. _

"_Are you afraid of me father?" Hermione asked timidly. She had thought her father would be ecstatic and excited, not fearful. _

"_No," he replied quickly, "Not at all my dear, you just startled me."_

From that night on whenever she had a dream she would recall in detail the tales of her and her friends from her other life to her father. He had become extremely accepting of her magic that she continued to practise, although he barred her to do it around anyone but himself, and even grew to love the stories she told.

"_A dragon?" he asked, "You rode on the back of a dragon?" _

"_After breaking into a bank," she replied with a big grin. _

Although Tyrion tried to keep Hermione away from the rest of his family, it seemed that fate had other ideas. When Hermione turned one and ten his father ordered them to King's Landing to live. Joffrey had taken an instant liking to his cousin who was beautiful and kind but Hermione didn't share his sentiments, he was cruel and nasty at only eight years old.

Her other cousins, Marcella and Tommen, were wonderful. They were kind, polite and playful, like every child should be. Hermione's aunt and uncle liked her enough, Cersei was a bit cold and didn't pay her much attention, but her Uncle Jamie loved her, he even started to teach her how to fight in case anything should ever happen to her. He even gifted her with a pair of small twin blades, shorter than swords but bigger than daggers.

Hermione continued to sneak into her father's chambers and retell all the stories of her other life and continue her magic within the confines of her room but it was becoming increasingly hard to do so when handmaidens were walking in and out and guards were posted around every corner. She had mastered quite a bit of her old magic from her previous life although it felt and worked slightly different in this realm, where the magic was more potent. She didn't need a wand to cast spells but in saying that, it did take a lot more work to cast a spell.

She spelled journals to keep her secrets. Tomes of potions, spells and other magical properties were stored away so she wouldn't forget, so she could learn until she mastered all there was to know.

Luckily, she managed to spell her eyes to a familiar chocolate brown before heading to King's Landing since her father wanted to keep her violet eyes a secret. She knew of Robert's Rebellion and the near extinction of her mother's House. She also knew what her eyes would mean for her should anyone else see them, especially King Robert. Her hair had also lightened considerably since her birth, it was now a pale golden colour.

Tyrion said it was because of the sun.

Hermione and Tyrion lived in relative peace in King's Landing for another five years before the Hand of the King died and another war was set to rise.

Today the bells rang loud in King's Landing for the funeral of Jon Arryn, Hand of the King. Hermione spent the day with her father in the gardens before a young page boy came to them with a message.

"My Lord, My Lady," he greeted, "A word from the King."

"A message from the King himself," Tyrion laughed, "Well this must be important then."

"Please father," Hermione scolded before gesturing for the boy to continue.

"In wake of Jon Arryn's death, the King will be travelling north to Winterfell and requests that the entire Royal family accompany him."

"Ah, he plans to make Lord Stark his new Hand," Tyrion mused, "When do we leave?"

"The King wishes to depart within the week."

"Very well, you may leave."

The page boy left father and daughter to wonder in silence. Hermione could almost hear the gears in her father's head turning as he mulled over the situation.

"A month's journey father," Hermione prompted, "Can you stand to be around your siblings for that long?"

"The question is, can you stand riding in the same carriage as your Aunt the entire trip?" he jested.

"You mean where I can bury my head in a book and ignore her?" she replied with a small smile, "I think I will manage."

"I think this may be a good chance for me to see the wall," Tyrion said suddenly, "But I would like you to stay in Winterfell until I return, I do not trust that you will be safe here without me."

"I am more than capable of taking care of myself," Hermione frowned.

"Oh I know you are, I'm scared for the people that even try to lift a finger against you," he chuckled, "But on a serious note I would still prefer you stay in Winterfell with the Starks if they would have you. They are the most honourable house and would keep you safe, who knows you may even like it there."

Hermione knew her father was looking out for her and to be honest she was quite bored of Kings Landing; she wanted an adventure like the ones from her previous life. Not the death and destruction but just the thrill of seeing new and exciting things, learning all that she could. She knew her father had always wanted to see the Wall in the north that protected the south from Wildlings and the Free Folk and as much as she would like to join him the Wall was 'no place for a woman'.

"We had best go get our things together, this will be a long journey."


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or Game of Thrones

**Chapter 1 **

And what a journey it was.

A month on the road in a stuffy carriage and constantly setting up camp was different, and Hermione would have thought it enjoyable if it weren't for two things. The first being that she had to ride in a carriage with her aunt, the Queen, who always looked at her with a critical icy gaze.

The second was Joffrey, he had it in his mind that he would one day marry Hermione as the Targaryen's married inside their families. To him, Hermione was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he was enraptured by her. Of course, King Robert extinguished that thought from the boy's mind as quickly as it came with a backhand to the face, but it never stopped the four and ten-year-old from making inappropriate comments or remarks when no one was around.

Having just entered through the gates of Winterfell, Hermione wished she could breathe a sigh of relief, but she knew Cersei would be breathing down her throat if she did. She heard the guards yell for the carriage to stop and so she waited to be released from this confined hell. The doors opened and she sat back as the Queen, Tommen and Marcella exited the carriage before she stepped out herself.

The air was crisp and cold, but she found that it was quite inviting, familiar even. She deviated to her right to stand behind Marcella and zeroed in on a small brunette girl.

"Where's the Imp?" she asked her sister, and by the looks of the two girls it would seem they were Arya and Sansa Stark. Hermione felt a spark of irritation for a moment before taking a deep breath. While the insults and derogatory remarks about her father rubbed her the wrong way her father wore it like armour so she would try and do the same.

'It can never be used to hurt you that way,' he had said.

King Robert went down the line of Stark children, starting at the eldest.

Robb Stark.

'He may be the Stark heir but he looks like a Tully,' Hermione thought as she noted the similarities between the boy and his mother. His strong jaw was set in a polite and respectful expression as he dropped his bright blue eyes ever so slightly for the King. He was definitely a warrior, lean and muscled with the stance of a knight in training. Hermione blushed lightly, he was attractive and around her age. She shook her head of those thoughts as her gaze moved to the next Stark child.

Sansa Stark was even more of a Tully in looks but she was a beauty. Her fiery red hair shone in the sun and her soft pale features would probably draw in any man as she got older.

Arya Stark, the middle sibling. Now this girl was a Stark, inside and out. Dark tresses pulled up tight behind her head, grey eyes dancing around the courtyard looking for 'the Imp' and her body ever so slightly jittering with the need to move.

Bran Stark, second youngest but like Arya a Stark inside and out. He seemed more subdued, but his eyes held an innocent excitement and spark that had Hermione grinning fondly.

Perched on his nurse maids' hip was little Rickon Stark, with Tully blue eyes and dark red curls gently pushed back on his head. She would have moved her focus back to Lord and Lady Stark but a mop of dark hair caught her eye from behind the line of Stark siblings.

Another boy her age stood there, his dark curls threatening to fall over his grey eyes as they focused on something interesting on the ground. He must have felt her gaze and looked up to see what was causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand up.

They gazed caught and Hermione felt a girlish flutter course through her belly. He was the most handsome male she had seen in this world and held all the traditional features of a Stark.

'In fact,' she thought, 'He looks like Arya and Bran.'

Her eyes widened as she recalled that Ned Stark had fathered a child outside of his marriage with Catelyn Tully. Jon Snow she believed his name was.

Jon couldn't tear his eyes away from the enchanting girl partially hidden behind the forms of the younger Baratheon children. Her pale blonde hair was pulled back into an elaborate braid, her slim figure filling out her red dress beautifully and her chocolate eyes looking at him in surprise and wonder.

He was shaken from his thoughts as a flicker of recognition filtered through her gaze, she knew what he was. His eyes dropped to look at the ground once more, it was not a bastard's place to look so openly at a maiden of a great house, let alone a Lannister.

"Robb," Ned Stark called, "Please show the children to their rooms."

Jon felt a pang of jealousy towards his brother for the first time as he watched him approach the attractive girl and her younger cousins. He held out his arm and beckoned them to follow him.

"Where is our brother?" Hermione could hear Cercei growl as she was led to her chambers.

Hermione knew where her father was, in a brothel somewhere getting drunk and shoving his prick into the first whore he could find. The young lioness had no illusions about what her father got up to and didn't like the words used for the women in those places but it's how this world was, she couldn't change that.

Cersei once told her that the only power a woman had over a man was between her legs. Hermione had smiled at her and thanked her for the advice but inside she was reeling. She would never let a man order her around like some servant or use her like some plaything. Never again.

"I hope everything is to your liking my Lady," Robb Stark said as he opened the door to her room after they had deposited Marcella and Tommen to their quarters. Taking the room in quickly she gave him a small smile and nod before stepping in.

"I shall come and collect you for supper at sundown."

Hermione sighed as the door shut and she was finally left alone. Shoulders quickly sagging and her body relaxing she sat down on the fur covered bed and sighed.

"This feels like home," she whispered before laying down to have a quick power nap before tonight's feast.

A pounding at her door had Hermione stirring awake and calling out with gritted teeth.

"Who is it?"

"Robb Stark my Lady," came the amused chuckle from behind the door, "I have come to escort you to the feast."

Hermione was on her feet in an instant using her magic to smooth her hair down and remove any wrinkles from her dress.

'Heavens I love magic,' she thought quickly approaching the door. She swung it open and caught the startling azure gaze of the heir of Winterfell. His auburn hair was combed neatly, and his clean-shaven face held a small smirk as he looked at the tiny woman before him.

"Then please, lead the way my Lord," she quipped. She took his outstretched arm and followed him down the many stone hallways.

"I'm Hermione Lannister by the way," she introduced.

"Oh, the Im – I mean Tyrion Lannister's daughter," he commented and quickly corrected himself to preserve his honour.

"It's ok," she sighed quietly, "My father wears it with honour, like armour I guess you could say. Then it cannot be used against him."

"That's very wise," Robb stated as he tried to control the red staining his cheeks.

"I heard you were a sight to behold," he continued, "But I was also told you were a deformed monster in disguise having killed a woman and stolen her skin when you were young."

Hermione's bell like laughter rang through the halls at the image that presented itself in her mind. She had heard many rumours about herself but this one was the best yet.

"Well I can assure you that as far as I am aware, I have always had this body and have yet to harm an innocent person, let alone kill one."

"That's good to hear. My younger sister Arya was always fascinated by you and your father. I apologise for her lack of discretion and respect in advance."

"She must be quite a little spitfire," Hermione commented as they approached the dining hall. She could hear the muffled voices of the guests and residents of Winterfell inside and hoped that she would not be forced to sit stoically beside her family should her father not be there.

"She is a wolf of the North my Lady-"

"Hermione," she quickly interrupted him, "Please call me Hermione."

"Only if you call me Robb," he grinned, "And as I was saying she is wolf as wild as they come."

"I'd like to get to know her I think," Hermione smiled warmly. There was silence for a few moments before Robb looked down at her from the corner of his eye.

"I must admit that you surprise me Hermione," he confessed.

"Oh? How so?"

"I mean no offence but I was raised to believe that all Lannister's were cruel, cold and manipulative but I can't see that in you at all."

Robb thought that he had indeed insulted and offended when she looked down and faltered in her steps.

"It's true," she admitted quietly, "I can admit that freely. My family does not have a good history, but I intend to change that. Our House insignia is a lion and lions are brave, loyal and kind to a fault."

Robb listened to her intently as she spoke with such conviction and passion that he believed that one day, she would change how the way people viewed her House.

"Our words 'Hear Me Roar'. They have been twisted and turned until no one knows them to be anything but a conceded battle cry. And my grandfather's specialty 'the Lannister's send their regards'," she scoffed forgetting her company and letting her emotions show, "Absolute rubbish. One day my House will recite different words and it will instil respect instead of fear."

"And what will those words be?" Robb asked with a wide grin.

"I'll know them when they come to me," she said quickly and dismissively.

"So, in other words you don't know," he laughed.

"You cannot plan or rehearse these things if you want them to actually mean something," she growled out. Robb raised his hands in surrender and just grinned at her narrowed eyes.

"Calm down little lion, I didn't mean anything by it. I'm sure you know plenty of other things," he retorted. Hermione let out a small sniff and crossed her arms in mock annoyance. Robb held his arm back out for her to take and continued to lead her closer and closer to the feast.

He led her into the hall, and she ignored the stares of almost everyone in the room once she saw her father was not present. He led her over to a small table near the King's where another boy around Robb's age sat waiting for him.

"Ah now I see what kept you so long mate," he grinned lecherously at the approaching pair.

"Theon," Robb replied quickly and tersely, "This is Hermione Lannister, niece of the King and Queen. Show her some respect."

Theon was taken aback by the barely hidden hostility in his friend's voice before nodding and leaning back in his seat. As the feast began, they spoke fondly of their families or in Hermione's case, her father and Theon's case the other Stark children. She was introduced to said children and was immediately enraptured by little Rickon.

She told him and Bran stories of Kings Landing, Casterly Rock and Highgarden, the only other capitals she had been too. She didn't have as many tales about her times in Highgarden as she was only fostered there for a year before Tywin demanded her return.

Sansa was ever the dutiful lady. Submissive and polite with dreams of handsome princes and heroic knights. Arya couldn't stand it and almost immediately started an argument that would have caused a scene if Robb had not put a stop to it.

"Do not shame our father by behaving like children, Rickon is better behaved than you," he said firmly but the sparkle of amusement in his eye gave away his true feelings. Arya sulked back in her chair, looking around the room not bothering to hide her board expression.

"Where is your other brother?" Hermione asked as the other younglings went back to their own table, closer to their parents.

"There are only five Stark children," Theon scoffed.

"I believe there are six," she stated plainly turning to Robb, "You have a half-brother correct?"

"Uh yes," Robb replied as he starred into his goblet, "Mother refused to allow him to the feast because he is not trueborn and would insult the King and Queen with his presence."

This set Hermione teeth grinding. She knew what it was like to be bullied and degraded based on your blood. In her previously life she was labelled as 'Muggleborn', a magical child with non-magical parents. Now this label wasn't so bad, it was the crude and demoralising version of it that had her clutching her forearm every time she thought of it.

Mudblood.

Dirty blood they said. Because of her parents.

Bastard.

The name of a child whose parents were not lawfully married when the child was brought into the world.

Disgusting.

The notion of basing how you act towards someone built on the foundation of their blood and not who they are as a person did not sit well with Hermione, it was the one thing she could not accept about this new world. It was the same as the old one except this time the child was ridiculed, beaten and given no chance in the world because of it.

"Where could I find him," she asked with an icy stare. Both boys starred at her in shock before Robb smiled warmly.

"If I know my brother at all," he started quietly, "It's that he would be beating some poor defenceless training dummy or brooding in his room."

"Right well, I guess I'm off to the training yards," she said before she swiftly got to her feet and swept out of the room like a woman on a mission.

"Does she even know where she's going?" Theon asked his friend. Robb chuckled and shrugged, he was not about to call her back or chase after her, he didn't want to get in between that hurricane of a woman and her objective.

Hermione was lost. She had finally found her way outside, but it seems that she found everywhere except the training grounds. A few guards had tried to verbally direct her but since they were unable to leave their post, they couldn't help her much more than that.

"This is absolutely useless," she huffed pulling her coat tighter around her shoulders. She stormed around a corner and nearly tripped over her own father's small form.

"Father!" she exclaimed happily, "I missed you."

She knelt to give him a hug and peck on the cheek while he chuckled warmly.

"Ah my beauty of a daughter how I have missed you as well. What brings you out here with no escort?"

"You know full well I do not require an escort," she said with a cocky grin that would have made Sirius Black proud.

"Yes, my brave and strong daughter who doesn't need a man to hold her hand," her father quipped.

"I am looking for Robb Stark's brother actually."

"Which one? They are both so young that I imagine their parents would not let them out of their sights."

"Do not play dumb with me father, you know exactly who I speak of."

"Then by all means my dear," he bowed extravagantly, "He is attempting to kill an innocent training dummy behind me as we speak."

Hermione grinned at her father's antics and quickly stepped around him to approach the resounding 'twack' she could now hear getting closer.

Oh, that poor innocent training dummy.

The wooden and padded doll was leaking hay, the ropes holding it secure to the wooden post so frayed that they threatened to break apart completely. Luckily the young man was only using a wooden training sword, or the desecrated body might be more of a shredded carcase.

"You seem upset."

The dark-haired boy turned so quickly she wondered if he had whiplash. His shadowy grey eyes starred into her soul as his chest heaved from exertion. Upon realising who was standing in front of him he lowered his gaze to the ground and bowed.

"My Lady," he greeted tensely, "I must apologise, I was not expecting company."

"Please stand," she said softly, "I feel I must apologise for being so selfish and seeking you out and disturbing your training."

"I…wasn't really training," he admitted sheepishly.

"Then what were you doing?" she chuckled. Jon let himself smile before quickly remembering his place and took a step back, his smile dwindling.

"I was venting some frustrations," he replied.

"Is it working?"

"No," he huffed after a moment. Her laughter rang through the air and Jon couldn't help but stare at her in awe, he had never heard such genuine laughter from a woman before. Arya didn't count.

"You look like a wounded pup with all that pouting you're doing sir," she giggled, "I'm Hermione Lannister by the way, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Jon Snow," he responded with a grimace.

"I was disappointed you weren't at the feast," she confessed, "Robb told me why and I didn't like it. You are family and should be treated as such."

Jon starred at this small slip of a woman in absolutely wonder. The genuine irritation in her voice and heartfelt admission stirred something in his chest. He had always been told that Lannister's were cruel and evil beings but in the span of ten minutes not one but two of them had proved that theory wrong. He wondered if it had anything to do with the fact, they were father and daughter.

"Thank you for your kind words my Lady."

"Please call me Hermione," she requested with a hopeful smile.

"It is not proper," he started but was quickly interrupted.

"Please," she begged, "I hate titles, I was given a name for a reason, I would prefer it be used."

"Very well Hermione," he conceded. Her beaming smile had his pale cheeks blushing and warmth filling his chest.

"I must admit something to you though," she said, "I find myself awfully lost and apart from finding you and gaining your company I'm afraid I didn't think much on what my plan would be from here."

"Uh…is there anywhere in particular you would like to go?" Jon asked bewildered, "I could…show you?"

"That would be wonderful," she exclaimed, "Do you have a library?"

"Yes?" he answered though it was more of a question. She was obviously very kind but he couldn't understand why she would willingly spend time with him, a bastard, when she could be feasting with his siblings and having fun.

"As much as I like food, I am not one much for crowds or loud noises or seeing the King make a fool of himself," she said quietly with a mischievous smile. Jon let out a small laugh as he led her through the courtyards and up a few sets of stairs to a tower.

Once again Hermione broached the subject of family and listened intently as Jon seemed to come alive the more he spoke of his siblings, especially Arya. Hermione was so engrossed in his passionate retelling of how Arya could already shoot a bow and arrow perfectly that Hermione missed a step and stumbled.

Jon was quick to grasp her forearms and brace her before she could fully make a fool of herself and Hermione stuttered outa small thank you. She mentally scolded herself as they continued to climb. She wasn't one of those girls who would lose their stepping or become clumsy just because she was around a handsome boy.

She was only brought out of her thoughts when Jon pushed open a large wooden door to reveal a large library filled with books and scrolls and dust.

She let out a small laugh of excitement as she quickly went about scouring the shelves for something interesting to read. Jon watched her flier throughout the isles of books quickly filling her arms. He shook his head and chuckled as she tried in vain to reach a book on a shelf above her head.

"Don't just stand there and laugh," she scolded playfully, "Come and help me."

He did just that. He strode over to her awaiting form and handed her the book she was desperately grasping at moments before.

'Brandon's of the North.'

"Interesting choice," he remarked with an amused grin. She shot him a mock glare before nestling herself in an armchair.

"I believe we should hide up here until everything is over," she sighed contently.

Jon gave a wistful smile. For the first time in years he thought of something better than going to the wall. A vision flashed in his mind's eye for a split second. An older version of him, sitting at the head of the dining table in Winterfell with a young boy perched on his lap playfully tugging at his hair.

The boy was around Rickon's age with raven tresses, pale skin and deep violet eyes. Beside him sat Hermione, older and even more beautiful, belly swollen with his second child.

The vision faded and with-it Jon came crashing back down to reality. As much as he was attracted to this girl, he would always be destined for the Wall. She would marry a Lord that could give her a home, a name and children.

He was a bastard. He could give her nothing.

He was broken out of his brooding when she called hi name and beckoned him to sit across from her, asking him all sorts of questions about the North's history and culture.

He was a bastard and he could give her nothing, but he would make the most of the time he had with her.


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or Game of Thrones

**Chapter 4 **

The week following the feast saw Hermione running around with the Stark girls to their lessons and being escorted around by Robb. Since her time in the library with Jon it seemed as though the fates were out to keep them.

Her uncle Jamie had rudely taken her away from Jon not an hour after they had made it to the library.

"You shouldn't be left alone with someone like him," he had sneered. Jon didn't even defend himself and Hermione couldn't even get a word out or put her books back before her uncle had pulled her out the door by her arm.

"I'm only trying to protect you," he had said as she stormed off to find Robb so she could be shown back to her chambers.

The King and Lord Stark had been hidden away for most days in private meetings, whispers of Sansa's marriage to Joffrey starting to circulate throughout the town. Hermione felt sorry for the poor girl who was naively enraptured with the Prince. She saw the way he looked at her, like a child who couldn't wait to play with his new toy. It put Hermione on edge.

Similarly, a rumour had started about a potential marriage for Robb Stark to Marcella when she came of age. Hermione had confronted Robb about this immediately and he admitted to feeling quite ill about the entire thing. Marcella was a nice girl and would be a catch for any man one day, but right now she was only ten summers old, younger than even Arya.

She had gotten lost in the halls of Winterfell that night and heard the Queen screaming at the King in their private quarters.

"They cannot have Marcella; she is too young and good for this wretched place!"

"Shut your mouth woman," the King growled, "The Starks and Baratheon's should have been joined decades ago and I would not insult Ned by marrying his daughter off before his heir."

"Why not my niece then, they are the same age at least," the Queen offered quickly. It worked out well for her because then she would be rid of her brother's spawn and with any hope her fiend of a brother as well. Most importantly she would get keep her little lioness by her side.

Hermione stood outside the door shocked when the King grunted in acceptance.

"I will discuss it with Ned, but any smart man would prefer a Princess for his son no matter what the age."

That was two days ago. Nothing more had been said about the subject, but she did catch the eye of the Lord of Winterfell more than once over the last few days, even this morning as he was preparing for the hunt. She was speaking with Robb next to his horse when she felt his eyes on hers.

"Have you heard the rumours?" Robb asked with a cautious smile. She tore her eyes away from the older man to face his son.

"Of Sansa's probably upcoming betrothal to my cousin?" Hermione replied acting dumb. She wasn't sure if she was comfortable broaching the subject of their potential marriage just yet, it hadn't even been confirmed.

"No. The rumour of our upcoming betrothal," Robb stated. Hermione felt her heart stop.

"I-yes. Yes, I have heard that one going around," she stuttered as she looked anywhere but him. In neither life she had lived was she any good around boys and feelings they drew out of her.

"Do you think," he started, "That it might be true?"

"I think…I think that whoever leaked that information may have a strong case."

Robb couldn't hide his grin from the woman in front of him and neither of them noticed Jon to the side with his eyes downcast, sorrow radiating off him as he shoved his hands into his gloves. Hermione finally brought her eyes up to meet Robbs and blushed at the look of admiration he was giving her.

"In that case I'll be sure to catch you a boar," he promised as he mounted his horse. Hermione nodded her head, her blush spreading down her neck and towards her breast. He rode off to join the other men to depart from Winterfell and into the surrounding woods.

Hermione turned from her spot and saw Bran walking away with his direwolf pup at his heels. She was quick to catch up to his retreating figure as he made his way to the outskirts of Winterfell.

"Little Lord," she called with a grin. He turned to her and waved excitedly, waiting for her to catch up to him.

"Would you do me the honour of keeping you company today?" she asked him.

"Sure!" he exclaimed, "I can finally show you how good I can climb!"

Hermione chuckled at his enthusiasm and took the young boy's hand in her own. Bran's face flushed a cute pink at her contact but tightened his hold and continued with his head held high.

"You had best be careful," Hermione cautioned, "And before you do that how about you introduce me to this little fellow?"

Bran's eyes lit up at the mention of his companion. He quickly knelt and stroked the pups head.

"This is Summer. We found him and the others in the woods with their mother, but she was already dead. Theon wanted to kill them, but Jon convinced father to let us keep one each. There were only five originally, one for each Stark child but then Jon found the run of the litter, so he got one too!"

Brans quick fire explanation warmed Hermione's heart. His excitement was palpable in the air and contagious to boot. He quickly listed all the wolves and their Stark counterpart.

Grey Wind for Robb. Lady for Sansa. Nymeria for Arya. Summer for him of course and Shaggy Dog for Rickon.

"And Jon's wolf is called Ghost," he concluded, "He is pure white with red eyes and no one ever hears him coming, I think that's why Jon called him that."

"Will you look after him while I climb, he gets lonely," Bran begged as hey reached the bottom of a tower. Hermione nodded but looked up at the tower in unease, surely, he wasn't going to climb all the way up there.

"It would be my pleasure," she said finally, "I'll be down here to catch you should you fall."

"I never fall," he boasted before starting his climb up the towers wall. Hermione walked over to a small patch of grass and sat down, not caring if her dress got dirty or stained. Summer took one last look at Bran before trotting over to her and sitting at her feet, staring at her with a curious tilt of the head.

"I used to know a wolf you know," she started, "He was a man that would turn into a wolf every full moon. His name was Remus and he was one of the greatest men to have lived. He was very scared that he would hurt people so he would stay away from them but eventually someone wormed her way into his heart, and they had a pup together."

She knew it was strange talking to a direwolf pup like it could understand her, but it just came out like word vomit. When she saw his cute head tilting from side to side like he was intently listening to her she couldn't stop speaking.

"I knew another man who could turn into a dog. He was imprisoned for a long time for something he didn't do. He was always trying to play pranks on people and could be a bit of a jerk, but he was probably the most loyal man you could ever find."

She continued to remise about people from her previous life until Summer abruptly turned and looked up at the tower. His shackles were raised, and a low juvenile growl spilled from his throat. Hermione looked up just in time to see Bran's body being propelled away from a window opening in the tower, his body falling at a rapid pace.

Hermione's world slowed as she launched to her feet. Fear and panic filled her as the boy's body continued to descend, a dreadful cry escaping her lips. She reached for her magic to do something, anything to ensure the boys safety but she feared she was too slow. Mere feet from the ground she threw out her arms and commanded a torrent of wind to break the child's fall.

He landed with a sickening thump and Hermione immediately dropped to his side and felt for a pulse. He had one but it was very slow. Although she knew healing techniques, she wasn't versed in situations such as this. Her cries could be heard echoing for help throughout the vicinity and it didn't take long for guards to come running.

Tears streamed down her face as she knelt above the boy's head trying to get him to open his eyes and respond to her. She looked to see if any blood was seeping onto the ground from where his head connected with the terrain but luckily there wasn't any she could see.

A pained shriek pulled Hermione from her thoughts as Lady Catelyn dropped beside her. The woman's cries resounded, even more haunting than that of the girl who had witnessed it. Hermione was lost in a flurry of movement as guards pulled her and the boy's mother away from his unmoving body.

They were led away when Bran's body was taken and ushered into a room where Maester Luwin quickly got to work, trying to save the boy from deaths clutches.

Two hours went by and all the two women could do was sit and wait, their tears having dried up and numbness taking over.

Finally, Maester Luwin retreated from the small figure laying in the bed. His shoulders were sagged as he turned to the woman to give them an update.

"He has no broken bones or injuries that I can see except some bruising on his back and legs," he started grimly, "But he has definitely taken a blow to the head from the fall."

"When will he wake," Catelyn pushed.

The Maester looked her in the eye and answered softly.

"My Lady it is a miracle he survived the fall but truthfully I'm not sure he will last the night and if he does…well I am unsure if he will ever wake."

Catelyn let out quiet sobs and Hermione had to stay quiet as her own tears cascaded down her face. She took the older woman's hands and led her over to two stools next to Bran's bed.

Catelyn fell into the young woman's arms and lost all semblance of control. Her cries echoed throughout the halls as she clutched at Hermione's arms that encircled her trembling form. Hermione gently rocked the distraught woman gently and murmured softly in her ear.

This was how Ned Stark found them.


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or Game of Thrones

**Chapter 5**

The atmosphere was sombre in the dining hall as everyone picked at the food in front of them. The only ones that seem unaffected were the young children, Rickon, Tommen and Marcella. They were too young to really understand why everyone was sad, to them Bran was just sleeping.

Joffrey's arrogance and tendency to fabricate tales was surprisingly helpful tonight as he charmed Sansa with stories of how he was 'the best swordsman' in all of King's Landing except his Uncle Jamie. The girl drank it up and her blush seemed to be permanently stained across her porcelain skin.

"Tell me Hermione," A voice shook the young woman from her thoughts. He was the only other person sitting at their table, Theon was nowhere to be seen and Jon most likely barred from being anywhere near her by her Uncle Jamie. She turned her eyes away from the young Stark to look into the eyes of her elder brother. Wariness and exhaustion clouded his normally bright blue eyes.

"Will he be good to my sister?"

Hermione followed his gaze back to her cousin who was smirking at the innocent redhead sitting across from him. For the sake of maintaining her families honour, reputation and to also avoid speaking treason she should have nodded her head and gushed about how lucky Sansa was to be officially betrothed to Joffrey.

She couldn't do it.

She caught Robb's eye and lowered her voice so avoid being overheard.

"You once told me that you had heard that all Lannister's were cruel and manipulative. I wasn't lying when I said my father and I were the only exceptions."

Robbs eyes widened as his gaze bored into that of his little sister. Tomorrow they would be separated, Sansa would be going to King's Landing with his father and Arya while Robb was forced to stay here as the acting Lord of Winterfell.

"She'll die," he said quietly, "She is too naïve and innocent to survive down there. Bad things happen to Stark who go south."

"I'll protect her," Hermione promised, "I can only do so much, but whatever I can do to protect her and Arya I will."

"I don't care if he is the crown bloody prince," he spat, "If he so much as looks at her the wrong way ill kill him."

Hermione grabbed Robbs upper arm tightly as his voice started the escalate. His head snapped down to where she held him and then turned to look into her eyes.

"You need to calm down," she warned, "Starting something here will not accomplish anything."

Robb narrowed his eyes for a moment before sighing and letting his shoulders slump. Theon chose that moment to slam two mugs of ale down on the table and fall into his seat, a self-satisfied grin stretching across his face.

"Do I even want to know?" Hermione asked dryly. Theon gave her a knowing grin before taking a swig from his mug.

"Probably been off whoring himself around town," Robb scoffed with an amused grin. It didn't quite reach his eyes but it was better than nothing.

Theon made to retort but the scraping of a chair from the head table drew everyone's attention. King Robert staggered to his feet and placed his hand on Ned's shoulder.

"Tonight, is our last night in Winterfell and I, in good conscious, cannot take away my best friend and brother away from his home and his loving wife without giving him something back."

Hermione's heart thundered in her chest as the king glanced her way. Ned's eyes also caught hers, resignation and acceptance shining in them. Cercei was smirking into her goblet of wine and everyone was sitting silent waiting for the rest of his announcement.

"Tonight, I am please to announce the betrothal of Ned Starks's heir, Robb Stark, to my good niece, Hermione Lannister."

Murmurs and polite clapping broke out throughout the room as Hermione's world spun.

Betrothed.

It shouldn't have been surprising considering what she had overheard and that it seemed as though she and Robb were constantly being pushed together but for it to be announced so publicly shocked her.

"Hermione?" Robb asked quietly to the still stunned woman. She numbly turned to look at him and released a breath she didn't realise she was holding. Theon was watching them with a shit eating grin, revelling in their discomfort.

"I'm fine," she assured him shakily, "Honestly I should have expected this but with everything going on I thought maybe the whole thing had been forgotten but it wasn't and now I look like a complete idiot for sitting here and practically gaping at the King in front of everyone. "

"I think it's your turn to calm down," Robb laughed at her flustered expression and babbling. Hermione nodded and took a few deep breaths before finally relaxing.

"That's better," he smiled warmly at her. Hermione finally realised that Theon was now giving them suggestive looks and glared at him.

"Do you not have better things to do than make people uncomfortable," she grouched. He would have retorted but a high-pitched voice sounded from behind her.

"Congratulations," Sansa gushed as she stood behind her brother with hands clasped in front of her. Hermione stood to greet her and was immediately pulled into an embrace.

"I can't believe we are going to be sisters," she exclaimed, "When I am queen you have to promise to visit me, especially once I give the prince a son. Our children will have so much fun together, they can learn horse riding in the Kingswood and be trained by the best swordsman in the kingdom."

"I think it will be a while before I have children," Hermione squeaked in embarrassment. Sansa's smile didn't waver as she gave each of them one last hug before returning to her golden prince.

Joffrey looked murderous as he starred at Robb, completely ignoring the chattering redhead who had once again taken her seat across from him. Hermione knew he wouldn't be happy, she just hoped he didn't take it out on Sansa. Since Hermione was now betrothed to Sansa it seemed she would be unable to travel with her to King's Landing to protect her.

"Walk with me?" Robb asked holding a hand to his fiancé. Hermione took it and slowly followed him out of the hall. They walked in comfortable silence through the halls and out passed the courtyards. Hermione was slowly growing familiar with Winterfell and could navigate it well enough to get around, but she had no idea where Robb was taking her right now, the surroundings were new to her.

Soon enough they approached a small clearing with an ancient looking tree. Crimson leaves clung to the branches but what caught Hermione's attention was the face that seemed to leap out of the tree trunk, blood-like sap dripping out of its eyes as though it was crying.

"What is this place?" Hermione asked in awe.

"We're in the Godswood, but this is our Weirwood tree, the place we come to pray to the Old Gods," he replied.

"Is this…where we will be married?" she asked tentatively. Honestly this was the most beautiful place she had seen in all of Westeros. She felt an ancient magic radiating from the tree and flittering through the air around her body like a sweet-smelling aroma. She took a deep breath, warmth filling her chest.

"Yes," he whispered. He turned to her and held both of her hands in his.

"Hermione," he began, "I've only known you for a few weeks and I know our betrothal being officially announced has come as a little bit of a shock, but I need to make you a promise."

"Oh Robb, you don't have to really-"

"No, please. I do. As the future Lady of Winterfell and, more importantly, my wife, I promise to be faithful, to treat you with all the respect you deserve and do my best every day of my life to make you happy. I want to get to know everything about you, what makes you tick, what makes you laugh, what makes you cry and what makes you happy. On my honour as a Stark I truly believe that I could love you."

Tears filled Hermione's eyes at the sincerity, passion and conviction in Robb's voice. His words meant a lot, she was always worried that she would be married off to some old man or unsavoury individual for political gain for her grandfather so this was more than she ever could have dreamed off.

"I think I could love you too," she admitted with a small laugh that almost sounded like a sob. Robb drew her into his embrace and she just lay her head on his chest and grasped his tunic in her small hands.

"Can we come back here some time?" she asked quietly, "I have never known such a peaceful place."

"This will be your home soon. You can come here whenever you like," he promised, resting his chin on top of her head.

"Wil you be with me?"

"Always."

"I believe congratulations are in order," a sullen voice sounded from behind her. Hermione turned and saw none other than Jon Snow standing in the doorway to her room.

"Jon," she grinned as she quickly strode to him to share an embrace. Hesitantly he encircled his arms around her but quickly released her and stepped back.

"I'm on my way to see Arya," he said quietly.

"Why won't you look at me?" Hermione asked with a frown. Jon glanced at her before looking back down.

"You're betrothed to Robb," he answered as if it was the answer to all the problems of the world.

"Yes," she answered, "But what does that have to do with looking at me?"

"I'm a bastard my lady-"

"Hermion-"

"My Lady," he interrupted firmly, "I am a bastard destined to be a man of the Nights Watch. Your kindness shouldn't be wasted on someone like me."

"I think I'll decide that for myself thanks," she replied coldly, "I told you before that I care not for your blood or title but the person that you are."

"Even so," he said gruffly, "I should never have entertained the thought…not even for a minute."

"What thought?" she asked cautiously.

"If I was a Stark," he said sadly, "You'd be marrying me."

Hermione was stumped. She didn't know Jon well at all, she had only spent hours with him, but she knew from the way his siblings, mainly Robb and Arya, spoke of him that he was honourable, kind, determined, humble and strong. Hermione knew that this is the type of man she was be instantly drawn to and it helped that he was possibly the most handsome man she had ever seen.

"I'm sorry Jon," she whispered, "Maybe in another life it could have been different."

"Yeah," he murmured, "Another life."

"I don't know what to say Jon," she admitted. She knew without a doubt that if given the chance she would grow to love him, just like she would with his brother, but it wasn't meant to be for them.

"You don't have to say anything," he assured her, "Just promise me you'll make him happy."

"I promise," she vowed. Jon finally looked into her eyes to give her one last longing look before walking out the door.

Hermione couldn't shake off the feeling that this would be the last time she ever saw him.


	7. Chapter 6

Hi guys!

Wow only 24 hours since I posted this story and the response has been overwhelming, I'm so glad you guys like it. A few of you have asked about whether or not I'm sticking to canon…. well yes and no, you'll have to wait and see.

Now some things may seem a little over the top or 'Mary Sue' but I swear I am not making Hermione uber powerful or anything…everything I do happens for a reason. Unfortunately, those reasons won't become apparent until much later!

The last thing. A few of you have mentioned you were surprised by the RobbXHermione pairing since I have indicated JonXHermione…yeah this will end up being a JonXHermione but this is also Game of Thrones where you either live or you die through the many twists and turns.

Anyway, as always, please enjoy!

**P.S. I FORGOT TO MENTION! A BIG THANK YOU TO MY BESTIE 'FLISSY' FOR CONTINUING TO INSPIRE ME AND MOTIVATE ME! **

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Game of Thrones or Harry Potter

**Chapter 5**

"My Lord," Hermione greeted as Ned Stark approached her crouching figure in the Godswood.

Today he would ride for King's Landing with his daughters, leaving Winterfell behind. He bowed his head in greeting and stood before her a little unsure.

"I hope you will come to think of Winterfell as your home," he stated. Hermione smiled warmly at him; he was obviously uncomfortable speaking to her.

"I believe I will," she assured him, "I think the north agrees with me."

"I don't doubt that," he chuckled lightly. His eyes shifted slightly, steeling himself for the conversation to come.

"He didn't fall, did he?" he asked quietly. Hermione's eyes lowered to the floor. It had been just over a week since Bran's accident and although he still lived, he was yet to wake.

"I don't believe so my Lord."

"Hm. I didn't think so," he grunted, "Did you see who-"

She shook her head quickly. She hadn't seen anyone at the time and when she had checked the tower the next day for any clues, she had come up with nothing.

"I saw no one," she stated, "I have suspicions, but I cannot be sure."

"I understand," he said softly, "Will you take care of them for me?"

Hermione's eyes widened at the man's request. She raised her eyes to meet his dark grey ones that shone two very different emotions, regret and wariness.

"I will do my very best," she promised him. Lord Stark let out a breath he was holding, his shoulders slumping slightly in relief.

"I doubt Cat will leave Bran's side, Rickon will not know what is going on. Robb will take over as Lord of Winterfell and-"

"Lord Stark," Hermione interrupted, "Please be calm, I will ensure that Rickon and Lady Catelyn are well cared for and rest assured that Robb will not be doing this alone. I know our families have not had a good history, but I intend to change that."

"Thank you."

Hermione gave him a bright smile before it quickly fell away having made a split-second decision.

"I need to tell you a few things my Lord. Before you fully accept me into your family."

Alarm and caution flittered across the older mans face as he starred at the small slip of a girl in front of him. She played with the sleeves of her gown, nervousness radiating off her form. With a deep breath she looked him in the eye and if Ned had not seen it with his own eyes, he would not have believed it.

Within seconds Hermione's chocolate brown eyes melted into that of a deep purple, her dark golden curls giving way to a paler hue.

"What the bloody hell?" Ned exclaimed.

"Please don't be alarmed," she begged seeing the trepidation in his eyes, "I am still a Lannister. My father is Tyrion Lannister and my mother was a bastard of House Targaryen, more specifically the bastard daughter of the Mad King. She died giving birth to me."

"That does not explain-"

"I have magic. I was born with it."

"Magic," he repeated with a frown. Magic was known to the people of Westeros, most commonly in the north but never had he seen it practised in front of him. He knew there were Red priests and priestess's that practised dark and twisted magics that usually required a blood sacrifice.

"My Lord I was born with magic running through my veins. The gods chose me to wield this power," she explained. Of course, it wasn't totally the truth because she wasn't about to tell him that she was a witch in a previous life, "I have honed my skills and continue to learn more about it every day. I feel it in your Godswood flowing through the air. I do not use blood in my spells, only the power that nature provides me."

"What do you wish to do with this…magic?" he asked.

"I wish to use it to protect the people I love," she confessed.

"Bran?"

"I panicked," she choked, "It happened too fast, I tried to break his fall with the wind, but I was too late."

"The Maester said it was a miracle he was alive with no broken bones. I believe you saved his life."

A few tears escaped Hermione's eyes at the genuine appreciation and awe that encompassed Ned Stark's words. Just having someone tell her that she didn't fail Bran completely lifted a great weight off her shoulders.

"I understand why you must hide your true self," he continued, "And I appreciate your trust in confiding in me. I have no more doubt that my family will be protected here in Winterfell while I am gone. I'd ask you to hold back in telling Robb and Catelyn about this for a while though, at least until Bran wakes up and things have settled back down."

"Of course, my Lord," she agreed.

"Please, call me Ned. We are to be family soon."

This reminded Hermione of something important that she needed to do before the party left to go south. She quickly spun around to retrieve two small items from a pack she had brought with her.

"Please give these to the girls," she said holding out two small items, a bracelet and wrist cuff, "I made a promise to Robb before our betrothal was announced that I would protect the girls in King's Landing. I can't do that from here. Please have them wear it. Should they ever need me, ever need help all they have to do is say recite House Stark words and I'll be there."

"With your…magic?" he asked curiously. Hermione nodded as her eyes glazed back over to her normal chocolate shade and her curls darkened until they resembled every other Lannister in Winterfell. Ned shook his head; he didn't think he would ever get used to that. He took the items and placed them inside his tunic, he would be sure to give these to his daughters, the woman in front of him was a powerful ally and he knew she would protect his girls.

"I can also enchant something of yours should you ever need me. Or I could link two books together so we can correspond instantaneously," she exclaimed getting excited. Ned's eyes grew wide at her excitement and couldn't help but laugh.

"Maybe just something small in case the girls aren't able to get through to you," he compromised. And so, he left Hermione's chambers minutes later with a black leather wrist cuff with the engraving of a direwolf etched into it.

Hermione sighed as the last of the soldiers left the gates of Winterfell. She had said a quick goodbye to her father knowing she would see him again soon enough when he returned from the Wall. The Stark sisters both gave her warm farewells but were sad when their mother failed to show. Jon had been no where to be seen, the only glimpse she got of him was the tail of a white wolf trotting out of the gates.

She was left alone to wander around Winterfell, Robb having disappeared with Theon and Rickon being taken away by a servant to be fed. Dusk was settling overhead so she decided to just wander the halls and see what else this Winterfell had to offer that she hadn't seen yet.

She moved through the maze of stone corridors for what felt like hours. Sometimes emerging back out into the courtyard and then finding a new door to go in through. She descended a set of stairs, the sounds of the towns people and servants growing softer the further down she went. She opened the door and gazed inside.

Lining the walls on either side were statues of people. It was cold, eerie and she got the feeling that she probably shouldn't be here. She turned to leave but came face to face with the wooden door as it slammed in her face. Her startled shriek bounced off the walls when she felt a hand grasp her shoulder.

There was no one there when she turned around, the grip on her should disappearing almost immediately. The familiar pull of magic tugged at her very core. It was faint, but it was there. Her breathing was shallow as she moved through the crypt following the invisible string that was guiding her.

A torch came to life beside a statue of what would have been a beautiful woman should she have lived.

Lyanna Stark.

Hermione tore her eyes away from the face of the woman before her, her heart thundering in her chest.

"What are you trying to tell me?" she whispered. Whatever magic was doing this was strange even by her standards but as she knew magic worked differently in this land, she didn't question it.

The pull got even stronger, urging her behind the statue. She carefully walked around to stand directly behind the stone woman and in the faint light of the torch she saw a loose stone in the wall. Carefully she removed it and placed it on the ground.

"A chest?" she pondered out loud seeing an old wooden chest hidden inside the stone crevice. She quickly took the chest and replaced the stone back inside the wall. Slowly, she opened the lid of the trunk and gaped at what it housed inside.

"Dragon eggs?" she gasped seeing three very real dragon eggs. One was blood red with what looked like gold dusting the tip of the scales. The second was pure white like snow and the third a deep emerald green with blue fissures running through it. The years had turned them to stone and Hermione knew they would be nothing more than pretty decorations now.

"Pity," she murmured thinking back to the last moments of her previous life, of the dragon who had doused her in its heated embrace as her body grew cold.

The door to the crypts cracked open with a squeak of its hinges. Hermione wasted no time in making her escape, hiding the chest under her cloak as she returned to her chambers where she could hide the relics she had just been given.

"Where's mother," a young voice cried from outside Hermione's room later in the evening.

"With Bran," Robb's voice sounded. Hermione could hear the irritation and strain in his voice even though he was trying to remain calm and gentle with his youngest brother. Rickon was only six and couldn't understand why his mother had suddenly vanished.

"She's always with Bran," Rickon sobbed, "Does she not love me anymore?"

Hermione couldn't take it anymore and opened the door to reveal the two brothers. Rickon was clutching at Robb's trousers, his face red and tear stained. The young woman quickly swept Rickon up into her arms and cuddled him to her chest. His tiny arms immediately latched around her neck as he cried even more.

Rocking him back and forth whispering soothing words in his ear, Hermione saw Robb's shoulders sag in relief. She could also see the anger and frustration shinning through. A few minutes later Rickon was reduced to a quiet sniffling. Hermione drew him back from her enough so that she could look at the young boy's face.

"Your mother loves you very much my little wolf," she whispered soothingly, "She is just worried for Bran right now."

"Because he's still asleep?" the young boy asked.

"That's right. He fell off a tower and got hurt, he needs to sleep to get better," she tried to explain, "And your mother wants to be there when he wakes up, to let him know that he is okay."

"But Bran never falls and I miss her," he hiccupped, still not quite understanding.

"I know you do pup. How about Robb and I talk to her and see if we can get her to tuck you in tonight while we watch over Bran, how does that sound?"

The young boys' eyes lit up and he nodded enthusiastically. Robb beckoned over a passing servant to take Rickon to his room.

"Now you need to let this lovely lady get you ready for bed because I'm sure you want your mother to see how well behaved you have been for her," Hermione grinned, handing him over to the servant.

"Thank you," Robb sighed as Rickon's excited babbling disappeared down the corridor.

"I think we should go and see your mother and make sure she is alright," she sighed. Robb's eyes turned steely again as he nodded. He didn't bother taking Hermione's hand or offering her his arm. She just followed as he strode away towards Bran's room, he was a man on a mission.

'No,' she thought wistfully, 'Not just a man, but a Lord.'


	8. Chapter 7

**I NEED YA'LL TO PRAY FOR MY COMPUTER! **

Now that I have your attention, I have to let you know that this may be the last chapter for about a week while my computer gets fixed. It took me over 24 hours but I managed to pull this file from my computer before it went to shit, it has not been proof read, I apologise!

My computer will not stay on for more than 10 seconds before blue screening and giving me a million different STOP CODES like Memory Management etc. I have tried all I can to repair and restore my computer but alas, it is not working.

So! I have a friend who is going to look at it for me but that may not be til the weekend and then I may not get it back for a week depending on how that goes.

**I'M SO SORRY! **

Please forgive me, I promise that when I get it back, I'll post like crazy! I already have all the major plot points planned out til the end of the show so the action will just keep on coming.

Speaking of action, as of the next chapter shit will start to go down! This chapter and all its predecessors have been leading up to this!

**Without further ado I give you, Chapter 7! **

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Game of Thrones or Harry Potter

The halls were cold despite the many torches lighting the way. Hermione knew the confrontation between Robb and his mother would not be pleasant. He had the calm face of a man, but his eyes were tired and had aged since his father had left. He was battling with having to juggle being the Lord of Winterfell, the big brother and father figure that Rickon needed while also fearing the fate of his other brother.

Lord Stark had only been gone a day and Robb was already feeling the effects, he had to talk sense into his mother immediately before he started failing his people from being stretched too thin.

"You don't have to do this alone you know?" Hermione's soft voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked over to her and his eyes softened.

"I know, this why I am confronting mother tonight. She needs to resume her duties as Lady of Winterfell," he replied.

"I wasn't talking about Lady Stark," Hermione frowned, "You may not like it but I am Tywin Lannister's granddaughter. He may despise my father but he made sure I knew all there was when it came to running a House since Uncle Jamie cannot inherit and Tommen is too young and doesn't hold the Lannister name. I can help with whatever you need."

Robb's steps faltered before stopping all together. He looked at this small woman in utter astonishment. He grew up always believing he would one day marry a nice girl from one of House Starks bannerman houses. She would be kind, submissive and attentive to the needs of himself and any children they had.

He never would have thought he would be lucky enough to marry a girl. No, a woman, who had a fiery spirit only matched in her kindness and intelligence. She was outspoken, sure of herself and loyal to a fault. She may have been a Lannister but Robb wasn't sure he could have ever asked for someone better suited for him.

"I don't know what to say," he admitted quietly because really, what could he say? Thank you just didn't seem like enough. They weren't even married yet and she was already asking to take on the responsibilities of taking care of his family and his people.

"Just say thank you," she smiled. Robb returned her smile and gently grasped her hand.

"Thank you, Lady Hermione," he said genuinely. He seemed a lot calmer and less stressed as they opened the door to Bran's room. His small form still lay fragile beneath the copious amounts of furs that lay over him. Summer, ever dutiful and loyal, lay curled up to his master's side.

"Talk to Poole about it," they heard lady Catelyn tell Maester Luwin dismissively.

"Poole went south with Lord Stark," he replied respectfully, "We need a new steward and there are several other appointments that req-"

"I don't care about appointments," the woman practically spat. Hermione felt Robb tense beside her before pulling his hand away.

"I'll make the appointments," Robb calmly stated. The other two occupants of the room spun their heads to look at the young Lord who simply starred in front of him. Lady Catelyn barely sparred Hermione a glance as she looked at her son in surprise.

"We will talk about it first thing in the morning."

"Very good My Lord," the elder said with an approving nod. He gave Lady Stark one last glace before leaving the room, the older woman wasn't even looking at him.

Hermione looked at Lady Stark with concern, she was knitting but her hands were shaking badly. Likely from lack of sleep, proper food and stress. Robb strode over to the window as Hermione took a seat on Bran's other side and stroked Summer's head. She wanted to be here to support Robb but she also didn't wish to intrude too much.

Hermione was honestly a little overwhelmed by her concern and care for the matriarch of the Starks. She hadn't told her father but upon meeting Lady Stark for the first time she had been hit with a hint of panic, the woman in front of her was a spitting image of her mother from her previous life. Helen Granger's body stood before her with red hair instead of dark brown and bright blue eyes instead of dark blue.

Her panic had disappeared after a few days of getting to know the woman, she was nothing like the mother she remembered. Sure, she was loving and loyal to her family and her children were her world but the way she treated Jon was not something Hermione could ever picture her mother doing. As such, she was able to separate the two. Helen Granger was not Catelyn Stark, she was not the poor shaking woman in front of her.

Lady Catelyn knew her son was upset, she always knew when her children were upset and she braced herself for the coming conversation. The wolves howled outside the open window and it seemed to cause more distress to the older woman.

"When was the last time you left this room?" Robb asked suddenly. His mother looked down trying to hide the shamed expression that she was trying to fight off.

"I have to take care of him," she tried to justify.

"He is not going to die mother," Robb shot back trying to remain calm and gentle, "Maester says the most dangerous time has passed."

"What if he's wrong," she fretted, "Bran needs me-"

"Rickon needs you," the young lord interrupted as he looked his mother in the eyes, "He's six. He follows me around all day clutching my leg, crying-"

"Close the windows, I can't stand it," Lady Stark exclaimed as a sob racked her body, "Make them stop please."

Robb gave his mother a sympathetic glance before turning back to the open window. His shoulders tensed; his face fell.

"Robb?" Hermione asked gently.

"Fire," he gasped, "Stay here, I'll come back."

And with that he was gone, out the door to fight the fire engulfing the Library. Hermione probably would have been by his side had she known where the fire was located at the time. Instead she moved around the bed as Lady Stark finally stood from her chair and strode to the window.

She saw the flames burning high in the Library tower and worry shone through her eyes. Hermione started to tidy the corner where Lady Stark had been loitering for the past few days but a small creek caught both women's attention.

Just inside the door they saw a man dressed in black, a good half covering his face. He looked at them with expressionless eyes as they moved between the now frozen women.

"You weren't supposed to be here," he stated, "No one was supposed to be here. It's a mercy really, he's already dead."

His target was Bran, the small boy lying amongst the furs. Hermione felt rage wash through her, how dare he pull a dagger on an innocent little boy. She wanted to use her magic to fight but she had only ever practised her magic with careful planning and concentration in this world. She had never practised 'duelling', there hadn't been a need before now. She would have to remember that for later.

"No!" Lady Stark exclaimed as she intercepted the assassin. She was knocked back but she didn't give up. Hermione jumped into the fray as Catelyn grasped the dragger with her hands, trying to keep it from slicing her throat.

"Get off her," Hermione growled as she grabbed a brass candlestick and smashed it into the side of his head. He gave a pained cry, releasing the older woman, before turning to her.

"You little Lannister cunt," he spat before plunging the dagger towards her heart. She moved to the side to avoid the sharp blade but got caught on the leg of a chair. She screamed in pain as the dagger sliced through her shoulder. She felt for her magic and threw a hand up in front of her. To any bystander it would look like she was trying to deflect a second blow but in reality, she had just hit him with this world's version of an 'Expelliarmus'.

His body hit the wall with a loud thud, the dagger clattering to the ground. Hermione sank to her knees as Summer finally managed to get an opening and latched into the assailant's throat. The assassins screams and cries echoes throughout the room as the direwolf tore the man apart. Hermione had crawled over to Lady Catelyn's shocked form.

She tore the hem of her dress and wrapped it around the older woman's hands as Summer finished playing with his prey and curled back up beside Bran's prone form. Hermione had led the boy's mother back to her chair and instructed to stay while she fetched the Maester. She completely ignored her own injury as she took charge of ensuring the safety of the Starks.

She ordered the first guards she could find to go to Bran's room and not let anyone in save herself, the Maester and Robb. To say the Maester was shocked at her presence was an understatement. He had quickly gathered his supplies and hurried back to the young boy's room, calling for someone to get Robb as they went.

"What the hell happened?" the young lord demanded upon entering his brothers' room not long later.

Lady Catelyn had been patched up and the Maester was now working on Hermione's shoulder. Her dress had been cut from her shoulder, exposing the top of one of her breasts and the entirety of her left arm. Robb momentarily forgot what was happening as he starred at the pale flesh but upon seeing the large gash in her should his anger flared back up.

"Explain. Now," he demanded.

She had called them to the Godswood, to convene in front of the Weirwood tree. The curious gazes that surrounded her turned to that of suspicion, anger and horror as she spoke.

"Someone tried to murder him, twice," she stated, "Why would someone do that unless he saw something?"

"So what My Lady?" Theon cut in quickly obviously fishing for information.

"I don't know," she replied quickly, "But I would stake my life the Lannister's were involved-"

"Now hang on just a minute," Robb interrupted, "You realise Hermione is a Lannister don't you. The girl who called for help when he fell, the girl who took a dagger for him only last night."

"The girl who was with him when he was pushed, hell it may have been her that pushed him, and the girl that was recognised by the assassin last night," Catelyn argued back, "She cannot be trusted."

"I trust her," Robb growled, "You don't know her moth-"

"I don't need to know her," the woman spat, "She is a Lannister."

"Did you notice the craftmanship of the dagger they used? It's too fine and made out of Valyrian Steel," one man commented as he pulled the dagger from its sheath, "Someone gave it to him. He also had a bag of gold on his person and we all know which house is rich in gold."

"They come into our home, try to murder my brother," Robb stewed as the man's words sunk in, "I refuse to believe Hermione had anything to do with it but her family is another matter entirely, she has admitted as much. If its war they want, it's war they will get."

"If it comes to that you know I'll stand behind you," Theon vowed.

"Is there going to be a battle in the Godswood?" The Maester said, "Huh? Too often the words of war become actions of war. We don't know the truth yet. Lord Stark must be told of this."

He was right of course but it didn't stem any of the anger Robb felt. Anger at his mother for suggesting Hermione was a part of this, angry that the Lannister's seemed to be out for his young brothers' blood, and angry at himself for allowing an assassin in his home.

"I do not trust a raven to carry these words," Lady Stark said.

"I'll ride to King's Landing," Robb volunteered adamantly.

"No," his mother refused him quickly, "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. I will go."

Their arguments and quick planning was thrown around for a few more minutes before Robb threw in his final rebuke.

"What about Bran?"

"I have prayed to the Seven for weeks. Bran's life is in their hands now."

"And what of the Lannister?" Theon added quietly. Everyone was silent for a moment before Robb turned to his mother.

"I will treat her as I always have, she is my betrothed and she is a good woman," he cemented, "You will not change my mind about her mother."

"Very well," she replied coldly.

Hermione knew something was wrong when she sat next to Robb during dinner. He was lost in his thoughts, distant and troubled. She tried to ask him what was wrong, tried to get him to open up so she could help but he remained closed off.

He would go from being polite and gentle one moment to snapping at her and ignoring her the next. She wanted to huff and roll her eyes at his childish behaviour but she reminded herself of what he was going through.

Immediately after dinner was over, he left. She made her way to her room silently, stopping to tuck Rickon into bed and ensure the guards at Bran's door had been fed. She didn't want to sleep yet but she also didn't wish to leave her rooms. Today the castle felt cold, almost like she wasn't welcomed. Lady Catelyn had been cold to her today, she wasn't sure why.

She wished she had pushed Lord Stark into allowing her to enchant a book so they could communicate but he had said it would attract too much information should he know what was happening in the North almost as soon as it happened.

Speaking of Lord Stark, she felt his voice in her head, whispering the words of his house. Her eyes widened as she felt the pull on her magic, calling her to him. It was like a reverse portkey, she concentrated on the link his words forged and felt herself being sucked through an invisible tube.

A moment later she felt the air become warmer, the soft grass beneath her feet and the quiet gasp of the man in question.

"Lord Stark," she greeted quietly as she opened her eyes. She took in his haggard appearance and knew something was wrong."

"I wasn't sure if you would come," he admitted, "I wasn't sure what else to do. I couldn't do it."

"Do what?" she asked cautiously. She took in their surroundings and noticed only one more occupant, Sansa's direwolf, Lady, sitting by his side.

"Nymeria attacked Joffrey, Arya set her free and they have called for Lady's head," he explained, "I said I would do it, said it was my responsibility but I can't do it. I can't break my daughters heard."

"I'll take her," Hermione offered immediately, "I'll take her back to Winterfell."

"No," he gasped, "They would recognise her and wonder how she got there. Word would travel back to the Queen."

"I don't know where else to take her," Hermione whispered.

"Jon," he said hoarsely, "Take her to Jon at the Wall if you can."

Hermione knew it would take a lot out of her, she didn't know where the wall was but hopefully, she could call upon her connection with her father and travel that way.

"I apologise that I have called you all the way here for a wolf but-"

"No," she interrupted, "Please, I am happy to help, I can take her there."

He sighed in relief; he couldn't tell Sansa of course but hopefully one day they could be reunited. He couldn't help Nymeria though, he just had to hope she was far away.

"Your son was attacked My Lord," Hermione said after a moment of debate, "He came in to Bran's chambers last night to kill him but he didn't count on Lady Stark and myself being there. Summer was the one that took him down. I fear my suspicions were correct. I fear it was someone from my family that tried to kill your son."

The tears fell from Hermione's eyes as she admitted what she thought out loud to someone. Ned was horrified and furious about what happened to his son but the crying girl in front of him called to his fatherly side. He wrapped her in his arms and soothed her.

"Thank you, my dear girl," he whispered, "I'm sorry you have been caught up in this but rest assured I do not blame you. I still trust you with my family as much as I ever did."

She needed to hear those words. She needed to know that someone didn't blame her for her family's actions and that she was trusted.

"I do not believe your wife feels the same," she admitted.

"Cat has always been protective of her children, as any mother is. She will get over this and remember all you have done for us."

"I will be gone for days from Winterfell to get Lady to Jon."

"You must tell them the truth when you return to them," he sighed. He pushed her away so he could look into her eyes, "The entire truth."

She took in his words and wiped away her tears. She composed herself and lifted her head, she was a lion, a brave, smart and loyal lion.

"Never hesitate to call on me again My Lord," she said strongly. He handed over Lady's leash and blinked as the girl and her new canine companion disappeared from site. He shook his head in wonderment.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that."


	9. Chapter 8

Update – this chapter has been written on my laptop as my computer needs to see a specialist and to be honest, I'm not too comfortable writing on a laptop.

This is my second attempt at this chapter. I tried to write something purely because I knew everyone wanted an update but it was utter rubbish and I decided to take my time, be comfortable in my work area and write something of quality before uploading next.

You may wait longer but I would rather give you quality work than some dribble I spat out with my fingers for the sake of an update.

So please, read on and hopefully you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Game of Thrones

Chapter 8

"I must say I received a much warmer welcome on my last visit," Lord Tyrion quipped as he stood before Robb Stark. He had just arrived in Winterfell after weeks of travelling back from the Wall. The young Lord sat before him, cold and angry eyes starring him down.

"All men of the Night's Watch are welcome in Winterfell," Robb replied coolly.

"All men of the Night's Watch," Tyrion retorted, "But not I, aye boy."

Robbs expression faltered for a second as his temper flared.

"I'm not your boy Lannister. I'm Lord of Winterfell while my father is away-"

"You might want to learn a Lord's courtesy," the older man shot back. Robb opened his mouth to continue his argument was but interrupted when young Bran was brought in by Hodor.

"So, it's true," Tyrion mused as he looked upon the limp form in the giant man's arms, "Hello Bran."

Hodor stopped before Tyrion, holding Bran to look upon him.

"Do you remember anything about what happened?"

"He has no memory of that day," The old Maester pipped up. Tyrion barely spared him a glace before continuing.

"My daughter said that you were showing her how well you climbed. She was awfully distraught when you fe-"

"Lord Tyrion that is enough," Robb snapped, "He has no memory of that day."

Tyrion regarded Robb for a long moment, slightly surprised by the sudden outburst but conceded and mumbled an apology to the young boy.

"Why are you here?" Robb asked tersely. Tyrion completely ignored Robb and look into Bran's cool brown eyes.

"Would your charming companion be able to kneel down for me, my neck is beginning to hurt," he asked gently.

"Kneel Hodor," Bran commanded after a moment. The giant man knelt to the ground, Bran now eye level with Lord Lannister.

"Do you like to ride Bran?" he asked.

"Yes," Bran perked up before his smile vanished again, "Well I mean, I did like to."

"The boy has lost the use of his legs," the Maester once again pipped in. Tyrion resisted the urge to roll his eyes, any fool could see that the boy had lost use of his legs.

"What of it," he called to the elderly man firmly as he set his cool green eyes upon those sitting at the high table, "With the right horse and saddle even a cripple can ride."

"I'm not a cripple," Bran interjected.

"Then I am not a dwarf, my father will be thrilled to hear it," Tyrion retorted, "I have a gift for you. Give that to your saddler, he will provide the rest. You must shape the horse to the rider, teach it to respond to the reins and his voice."

Bran unrolled the piece of parchment with a curious gleam in his eyes. They started to shine in excitement as he looked over the plans laid out in front of him.

"Will I really be able to ride?" Bran asked softly.

"You will," Tyrion reassured, "On horseback, you'll be as tall as any of them. Hermione could even teach you-"

"Is this some kind of trick," Robb growled out. He didn't trust the Lannister's especially after the last few months.

"Why do you want to help him," he continued as he eyed the Lord with suspicion.

"Because I have a fondness for bastard, cripples and broken things," Tyrion shot back. Robb looked abashed when he realised that Lord Tyrion was genuine in his act of kindness.

"You have done my brother a kindness," he lamented, "The hospitality of Winterfell is yours."

"Spare me your false courtesies, Lord Stark," Tyrion mocked, "There is a brothel outside your walls. There I'll find a bed and both of us will sleep easier."

He went to walk away and then turned to look at Robb one more time.

"Speaking of sleeping easier, where are you hiding my daughter?"

"Hermi-Lady Lannister," Jon stammered in surprise as he saw the shivering form of Hermione Lannister sitting in a chair next to Commander Mormont's fireplace with a familiar direwolf curled up at her feet.

Hermione locked her tired gaze with his. She was pale, a black coat wrapped around her and the bottom of her dress dirty. She gave him a small smile as Commander Mormont looked sternly between them.

"She was picked up by a ranging party headed for East Watch by the Sea, said she had something to giver you from your father," he explained.

"I got lost," Hermione chuckled lightly.

"I'll leave you two to talk, need to go check on the new recruits and make sure Thorne hasn't tormented them too badly," he mused. One the door was shut Jon took a few slow steps towards the girl who was finally getting some colour back to her face.

"What are you doing here?" he asked breathlessly.

"Your father-"

"I know, I heard that bit," he said quickly, "I meant why are you here all alone, and with Lady?I thought she went South with Sansa?"

"She did," Hermione exhaled, "Jon, things are starting to happen, bad things. I can't tell you without revealing something very important about myself. Promise me that what I tell you right here and now will stay between us."

Jon took in her gaze, the seriousness of her tone and the complete and utter trust filling her eyes. He gulped, his heart pounding in his chest. The feeling this woman brought out in him without even trying was almost too much for him to handle. She grasped his wrist when he took too long to answer and he glanced down to where her small digits wrapped around him and then back into her eyes, desperation now shining within their depths.

"Please," she begged softly. Jon nodded and then sat in the chair opposite her, his focus purely on her. Lady lifted her head to regard him but decided that sleeping was more important.

"What happened?" he asked. Hermione let out a shaky breath and the words seemed to just spill from her mouth. Jon listened with wide eyes, his mouth drying up and his thoughts a jumbled mess, what she was saying was completely insane.

"I can prove it," she whispered when she finished her tale. When he didn't move or say anything, she raised her hands and Jon was startled out of his seat when the objects on Commander Mormont's desk started to float in the air.

"Jon?" Hermione called as Jon slowly shook his head, "Please say something?"

"Does Robb-"

"No," she answered quickly, "But as soon as I return I will tell him."

"And he doesn't know where you are or why you left?"

"I didn't have time to tell him, no," she clarified.

"This is," he trailed off.

"I know," Hermione whispered. They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Jon slowly sat back down.

"I trust you Hermione," he said seriously, "And to be honest I feel better about the safety of my family knowing that you are looking out for them, all of them."

At this remark Lady let out a soft yip and gave a single thump of her tail. Both humans glanced down at the canine and smiled softly.

"Where's Ghost?" she asked.

"Out hunting I imagine," he remarked with a fond smile.

"He needs to teach that to Lady," Hermione chuckled, "She wouldn't hunt on the way here. I had to steal supplies from villages along the way since I started straight here from the King's Road, stupid I know."

"It was extremely foolish," Jon agreed, "How will you get back to Winterfell?"

"I can apparate back there," she said simply, "Basically I can disappear from here and reappear there in an instant."

"Why couldn't you do that to get here?" he asked with a confused frown.

"I need to be able to picture the destination in my mind to get there and also it makes Lady very ill."

"Is my father still here?" she asked after a few moments, "I know it's a stretch but I thought-"

"No," Jon replied, "He left two weeks past, I imagine he will arrive in Winterfell soon, if he hasn't already."

"I hope he is ok," she mused wistfully, she missed her father terribly, she hadn't been away from him for this long before.

"He seemed to be in good spirits when he left here," Jon assured her.

"Thank you," she replied.

"You never said good-bye," she whispered after another few minutes of comfortable silence.

"I," Jon stammered, "I'm sorry."

"You're not," she smiled, "I understand why but it didn't make it hurt any less."

"I am sorry for that," Jon insisted, "I felt a fool."

"Why?" she asked. She had no idea what he had to feel foolish about.

"For what I said," he confessed, "It wasn't proper and-"

"I think I could have loved you," she interrupted, "You said that if you were a Stark it would be you, I would be marrying. I think that, even if you stayed a Snow, I would love you. You are kind, smart, honourable and just."

"My Lady I-"

"Hermione, I told you to call me Hermione," she cut in again, "If the situation was different, if I wasn't bound to be your brothers wife and if you hadn't joined the Nights Watch, I think we could have made each other very happy."

"Thank you," was all Jon could say.

"You have a Maester Aemon here, correct?" Hermione asked changing the subject. Jon was thankful of the change in conversation and smiled as he thought of the old blind man.

"My mother was a Targaryen bastard, to the Mad King in fact," she said quietly, "Do you think he would see me?"

"You're?"

"Yes, I am part Targaryen, kept secret for obvious reasons," she said. Jon thought nothing more about this woman would surprise him but then she had to go and confess that secret to him.

"You should be Queen," he said suddenly, "You would be a better ruler than Robert Baratheon and Jeoffrey when he becomes King."

"That's kind of you to say but I have no desire to be a queen," Hermione chuckled.

"He would see you," Jon answered her earlier question, "He believes he is the last of the dragons, I think he would love to meet you."


	10. Chapter 9

**GUESS WHO'S BACK!**

Yeah, me, the one with the blue screen of death. Gods I missed you guys!

So, after not even 12 hours of having my computer, my best friend's dad found the problem. FAULTY RAM STICK! (One of my amazing readers actually predicted this in a review haha! You go Glen Coco!)

Since my last chapter I have gotten many reviews from people regarding different topics, such as the familial relationship between Jon and Hermione...they are cousins. Now I am usually not one for relationships between 'immediate' family members BUT if the Game of Thrones community can be fine with the Targaryen's banging each other and shipping Arya/Sansa with Jon then I think this is more than fine…the only thing Hermione and Jon share is a grandfather.

I have also been trying to photoshop a cover image for this story, got my images picked out and I used to be really good with photoshop but that was almost ten years ago…now I'm shit haha! Sorry guys!

Anyway, I am hopefully back full time now and am determined to nail you all with good quality chapters!

Enjoy my lovelies!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Game of Thrones or Harry Potter

**Chapter 9**

Hermione woke to the sounds of bustling feet outside her doors. She took a moment to gather her bearings, looking around the small dark room she had been provided. It was plain, simple and extremely cold. That's what you get without a fire going at a lodgement in Castle Black. She groaned as she sat up and stretched. Although she was freezing, she had slept through the night, probably because of how exhausted she was and the fact that she was sleeping in a bed for the first time in weeks.

She perked up when she remembered what today was, the day she would meet with Maester Aemon, he grandfathers' brother, her great uncle?

"What? I'm not allowed to be excited?" she laughed as Lady huffed from beside her bed. Poor Lady hadn't taken her separation from Sansa very well, she was always sleeping or curled up at Hermione's feet. Apparently, she had always been the calmest of the wolves but never to this extent, Ghost couldn't even rouse her last night when they had reunited.

"One day," Hermione promised, "You'll see her again, I'll make sure of it."

She took one last look at Lady before getting ready for the day. Her dress had been ruined on the journey to the wall and it was not suited to this level of cold. Sure, it was good for Winterfell but not here.

Commander Mormont had kindly given her new clothes to wear, a pair of black breeches, black undershirt and leather tunic. Afterall the Wall was not a place for women, so why would they have women's clothes on hand. It actually felt refreshing, not being stuck in the confines of a dress, with the freedom to run and move as she pleased.

She tugged her fur clock around her body before calling to Lady. The pair walked outside and a portly man was waiting for her with a nervous expression on his face, his eyes glued to the floor.

"Good Morning My Lady," he stuttered, "I'm here to take you to breakfast with the Maester."

"Thank you," she smiled gently, "I'm Hermione Lannister, may I know your name?"

"S-Samwell Tarly My Lady."

"Tarly? Aren't you the heir to Horn Hill?" she asked confused as they began their trek.

"I was not fit to lead my fathers great house," he replied shakily, "I am a coward and I cannot fight."

"I don't think you're a coward Samwell Tarly," Hermione smiled, "You are here talking with me despite the fact you are obviously nervous. A coward is someone who never faces their fears not someone who simply fears. I think you're brave Lord Tarly."

Sam looked at her in surprise before lowering his eyes again with a small smile. Hermione walked beside Sam with her head held high, Lady walking in step beside her. Sam was still hunched over but he had a bit more energy in his steps now.

'I think he would make the perfect Gryffindor,' she thought to herself. His nervousness reminded her of a person from her previous life, Neville Longbottom. No one ever believed in him, not even his own grandmother despite her love for him. It wasn't until he had been taken under Harry's wing and gotten a wand of his own that he truly flourished.

'He just needs a Harry,' she grinned internally. Sam cleared his throat as they stood outside of a wooden door.

"The Maester is inside, let me introduce you," he said before opening the door. Immediately the heat of the fireplace washed over them and Hermione sighed in contentment from the smells emitting from the room. It smelled of ink, parchment and an assortment of herbs that were no doubt used in healing concoctions. It smelled of a library and potions lab, it smelt of home.

"Good morning Samwell," an old frail voice called out. Samwell's voice hitched; he obviously wasn't expecting the maester to know who was entering his study without the use of his eyes. Hermione stepped into the fire-lit room and gazed upon her distant relative. He wore robes of black, as expected of a Night's Watch member, his hair was thin and white as snow while his skin was pale and wrinkled. She didn't care though. Tears pricked her eyes as his pale unseeing violet irises gazed in their direction.

"Good morning Maester, I have brought Lady Lannister to dine with you this morning," Sam stammered. Aemon graced Sam with a warm and gentle smile as he nodded his thanks.

"Thank you, Samwell, you may go," he dismissed, "Please my dear, come and sit with this old man."

Hermione was nervous, she wiped her hands on her breeches as Samwell left the two alone. Lady had curled up near the fireplace as if to give the two their privacy.

"Thank you for meeting with me," Hermione said as she sat across the small table from the Maester.

"It's rare that I meet anyone from the Great Houses of Westeros, even more so when I met their father only weeks ago," he said with a knowing smile.

"Uh yes," she said sheepishly, "I would never have come here if I didn't have a task given to me by Lord Stark-"

"It makes me wonder why you wished to speak with me specifically," he continued as if she hadn't said anything at all. "Is there something you wish to tell me?"

Hermione starred in shock at the old man. How could he deduce that simply from her asking to meet with him?

"I'm the granddaughter of Aery's Targaryen," she blurted out. She couldn't really put it any other way. How could you gently tell someone that you're related to their near extinct family. To his credit, Aemon did look surprised and a bit shocked at her outburst but he didn't seem overly confused. He knew she needed to discuss something of importance with him but he never thought it would be something like this.

"How?" was all he asked.

"My mother, Tysha, she was a bastard of his that grew up in a brothel," she explained, "She inherited my grandmothers' dark hair so it was easy for her to blend in. She died giving birth to me."

Aemon sat in silence for a few moments, simply starring unblinkingly at her trying to deduce if this was some sort of trick. He had only heard of the decimation of his house through written correspondence, ravens that brought small bits of information. He believed he had no relatives left, none bar the two across the narrow sea, likely to never return to these shores again.

"Oh, my dear," he croaked as he beckoned her to come to him. Hermione walked around to kneel in front of his chair. He lightly ran his fingers over her face, trying to paint a picture in his mind of how she looked.

"You are beautiful," he whispered as tears fell down his aged cheeks, "I never thought I would see any of my kin once more before I die but here you are."

"Father always said it would be too dangerous to meet with you in case people started asking questions," she said as tears fell down her own cheeks, "I had to disguise myself my whole life."

"You cannot disguise who you are my dear," he said with a small frown.

"I have more to tell you," she admitted, "I was born with magic. When I was young, I learned how to change the colour of my hair and eyes to make myself seem purely Lannister but my father says I am just a dragon in a Lion's den."

"Magic you say?" he asked inquisitively, "Would you…show me? So to speak."

"I would like to show you something that I have not shown anyone else, not even my father," she said softly, "I need you to continue touching my face."

Aemon just gave her a warm smile and nodded, placing his hands on her cheeks. She leaned into his touch before taking a deep breath, using all her concentration to focus her magic into shaping what she wanted it to do.

Aemon patiently waited to see what his young niece would do and he wouldn't stop the gasp escaping his lips as he felt the shape of her face changing and fur growing where smooth skin one was. He refused to move his hands as he felt her moth enlarge and fangs start to protrude.

"What have you become my dear girl?" he exhaled deeply. He heard a small noise that was between a purr and a growl before everything he felt receded and her smooth skin was once again under his fingers.

"I have the ability to shift into the form of a lion," she grinned, "It's not a full transformation, I still have a long way to go before its complete."

"I think you are a miracle dear girl," he smiled, "You will go on to do great things for this Kingdom."

"You think so?" she asked hesitantly.

"You have been brought up as a lion but you are just as much a dragon as I am. They told me that Rhaegar was the last dragon, I think they were wrong. If it was within my power to grant you our name I would."

She couldn't stop the sob that escaped her. To know that someone, however distant, from her mother's family accepted her and seemed to love her was more than she could ever imagined.

"I can tell that you are proud to be a lion but never forget the dragon blood that flows through your veins," he reminded her.

"Maester-"

"I think you can call me grandfather my dear girl. I know your real grandfather is my brother but we are all each other has now."

"Grandfather," she grinned, "I have one more thing to tell you."

"My poor old hear, I don't know how much more I can take, "he jested with a husky laugh, "Pray tell dear girl, what more do you have to tell this old man."

"I found dragon eggs," she breathed out, "Behind Lady Lyanna Starks tomb in Winterfell. There are three of them but I think they have just turned to stone now."

"Pity. Lyanna Stark you say? I wonder how they got there?" he mused, "No doubt given to her by Rhaegar but who would place them with her tomb?"

"I don't know. If they hadn't called to me, I wouldn't have found them," she admitted, "I wish I knew who they were originally for."

"Probably any children Rhaegar and Lyanna had together," he replied, "They were so in love."

"I was told that he kidnapped and raped her," Hermione said softly.

"He used to write to me often," Aemon said, "In the end he told me that he married her, that they were in love and expecting a child. I am assuming he annulled his marriage to Elia Martell but he never confirmed it. That was the last raven I received from him. The next was from Robert Baratheon announcing my house's extinction and also the death of Lyanna Stark in the Tower of Joy, a fever they said. There was no mention of the child she carried; I can only hope it died in the womb with her for Robert would never have let them live."

"I never knew, no one knew. The rebellion was based on a lie," she gaped.

"Not necessarily a lie," he said, "Lyanna was indeed betrothed to Robert and her running off with my nephew without telling anyone caused a lot of false tales to spread through the land. The fact that my brother burned Lord Stark's brother and father only fuelled those tales."

"I see," she whispered.

"It is in the past now my dear, we must look to the future," he chided.

"I'm betrothed to Robb Stark," she offered, "I am worried about returning to Winterfell though, I left without telling anyone and they do not know of what I can do."

"Then you must tell him," he replied simply.

"I will, Lord Stark told me as much," she said, "But I still fear his reaction."

"If he is an honourable as his father he will listen and understand. Do you love him?" he asked suddenly.

"I don't really know him that well," she admitted after a moment, "I think I could grow to love him."

"Like you could grow to love Jon Snow," he said with a knowing smile. Hermione's face set aflame as she gaped at the older man.

"Don't be so surprised my dear, I may be blind but I am not deaf. Young Snow speaks about you to Mr Tarly. Not much, I don't think he likes feeling vulnerable, but enough to tell me that there was a connection between you."

"He told me that if he was a Stark, he would be the one marrying me," she confessed, "I told him last night that I could have loved him if that were the case. It's true, I feel more of a connection to Jon than I do Robb but I also know the reality I live in. Jon chose the Night's Watch and Robb is not a bad man, I could do much worse than the son of the most honourable man in Westeros."

"That is true," he agreed. Hermione was still kneeling before him and her knees were now starting to cramp.

"Come with me," he said suddenly as he lifted her hands, beckoning her to follow him. She stood and followed him to the bookshelf that stood proudly behind him.

"I would like to offer you any of these books here," he said, "It is our history. Tales of our ancestors and our dragons. Would you read me some of their tales?"

And that's how Hermione spend the majority of the day, reading stories and events of their ancestors to the man who had claimed her as a granddaughter, despite being a man of the Night's Watch.

"Of course, you would be up here, right where your father pissed off the edge of the world," Jon laughed as he approached Hermione's cloaked form atop the Wall. Hermione turned to look at Jon with a warm smile.

"It's breathtaking up here," she replied softly as she looked back over the frozen wasteland. Jon stood beside her and looked down at her.

"Aye," he murmured. Hermione glanced up at him and let out a small chuckle.

"That was a bit much don't you think," she asked with a playful smirk.

"Probably, doesn't mean it's not true," he replied abashed. They turned back to observe the land for a few more minutes before Jon spoke again.

"You're leaving now?" he stated more than asked.

"Yes, I'll go right back to Winterfell. Hopefully Robb isn't too mad," she said softly.

"I have something for you," he said as he pulled a rolled piece of parchment from his cloak. Hermione took it with a small frown marring her features.

"It's a letter to Robb, telling him to trust you. You probably won't need it but just in case," he said, "I need you to be safe."

"Oh Jon," her heart melted. She looked upon this man, his dark curls falling into his equally dark eyes, the visage of a true Stark. He looked upon her with such longing and resignation that she could feel her heart break just a little.

"Would you mind," she started, "If I threw duty and honour to wolves for a moment?"

"Not at all," he breathed. That was all she needed before she grabbed the front of his cloak and brought his lips down to meet hers in a soft but passionate kiss. They stayed locked in their embrace for what felt like hours, trying to convey all the emotions they were feeling before they pulled away to catch their breath.

"Goodbye Jon Snow," she whispered before disappearing from his arms. Jon squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could, feeling the empty air around him. He took in a deep breath before turning and making his way back to the elevator.

'In another life,' he thought to himself as he watched the fire from the torches flicker in the night.

"Lady Lannister, would you care to explain where you have been these past few weeks?" Robb asked coldly as said 'Lady' was thrown to the ground in front of him. Hermione starred up at him with barely hidden anger. She had arrived in Winterfell, still garbed as a man of the Night's Watch and was accosted outside of her room by Theon Greyjoy.

"Where the fuck have you been Lannister?" he had growled at her as he grabbed her arm tightly and marched her to the hall where Robb and Bran were seeing to Winterfell's appointments.

"I was set a task by your father," she bit back at him.

"You disappeared the night after an attempt on Bran's life. An assassin who recognised you might I add," he continued as if she had said nothing.

"I was called by your father to help him with something, he asked that I deliver something to Jon-"

"and what would that be," he interrupted.

"I would speak with you alone about it," she said as she looked around at all the men starring down at her.

"You ask too much Lannister," Theon snapped as he tightened his grip on her arm.

"Let go," Bran demanded from his seat beside Robb, "You're hurting her."

"I take orders from Robb, not you Bran," Theon said simply. Hermione looked into Robb's eyes and noticed that he didn't seem to care that his best friend was holding her so tightly he would likely leave bruises.

"I thought you were a man of honour," she spat.

"I am the Lord of Winterfell an-"

"Then maybe you should consider showing a Lord's curtesy to a Lady of House Lannister, especially given our situation."

"My Lord," Maester Luwin approached, "This woman is to be your wife. Yes, she has some explaining to do but to have her treated in such a way brings shame and dishonour upon you and House Stark. Your father would not be happy about this."

"Release her Theon," Robb commanded. He looked thoroughly chided and shamed. Hermione tried to convey her gratitude to the old man but he refused to look her way.

"Not alone then," she conceded," But I ask that I speak with you, Bran and two others that you trust with your life. What I have to tell you cannot become common knowledge."

Robb regarded her for a moment before sighing. He waved everyone away bar Maester Luwin and Theon. She wasn't too happy that the young Kraken was chosen to stay in the room but she didn't really have much of a choice in the matter. Once the doors were shut, she channelled her magic and anger into ensuring their privacy would be upheld.

She turned back to the four males at the table and let her magic flow through her.

"What the fuck," Theon shouted as Hermione's hair and eye colour changed before his eyes.

It took almost an hour, full of arguing and shouting and demonstrations for Hermione to get everything she needed out. She told them of her mother's family, of her magic. She told them of the items she had given Lord Stark before he left and how he had called upon her because the wolves were in danger. She gave Robb the note Jon had given her after Theon said she was using magic to trick Lord Stark into marrying Robb and gaining title of Lady of Winterfell.

"I'm sorry Hermione," Robb whispered as he finally looked at her with emotions other than hate, betrayal and anger. She had returned her hair and eyes back to their Lannister colours and dropped the wards she had erected around the room.

"I understand, I do, but you also need to realise you have much to learn when it comes to me and being a Lord," she said softly. He embraced her tightly, like he was hanging onto a lifeline.

"I'm so glad to see you're awake Bran," she said as she moved to embrace the boy. He knotted his arms behind her neck and whispered into her shoulder.

"I missed you."

"Oh Bran, I missed you too. I am so sorry I wasn't here when you woke up," she said with a small sob.

"You were protecting my family," he said simply, "You should have been a Tully."

"Why is that?" she asked as she pulled back to look at him.

"Because House Tully's words are Family, Duty, Honour, in that order," he stated firmly, "And you stuck by those words more than mother."

"Bran," Robb sighed.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked the young boy. Bran refused to look at her as anger clouded his eyes. She looked to the others in the room and noticed their eyes looking anywhere but her.

"Robb, please tell me," she begged, "What is going on?"

Before he could answer an urgent knock sounded from the door.

"Enter," Robb called with a frown.

"My Lord there has been a raven," the guard panted.

"Well spit it out," Theon snapped as the man tried to catch his breath.

"Theon," Robb growled, "Please sir, tell us what was said."

The man glanced at Hermione quickly before turning his full attention to his young Lord.

"A raven form your mother my Lord," she started, "She has taken Tyrion Lannister hostage for the attempted murder of Lord Bran."

"What!"


	11. Chapter 10

I'm on a roll, two chapters in one day!

You know how I was talking about having images picked out for a cover image, well if there are any photoshop wizards here that would like to do it for me I'd be much obliged.

Anyway, on with the story!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Game on Thrones

Chapter 10

"You honestly believe my father is the one responsible for Bran's condition?" Hermione asked Robb as they stood in Lord Stark's study. He had whisked her away as son as the raven's message had been conveyed. Her anger, shock, hurt and betrayal were palpable and Robb noticed a few of the chairs start to shake.

Hermione hadn't resisted as he led her away, she had stayed silent, angry tears rolling down her cheeks.

"My mother certainly seems to think so," he replied cautiously, "He was asking a lot of questions when he came back through Winterfell. I even thought it might be a guilty conscious when he designed a special saddle that would allow Bran to ride again."

"My father would never even think of harming a child," she spat, "Your mother is not Lord of Winterfell, you are. You need to tell her to release him."

"She would not listen to me," he tried to tell her gently.

"Then make her," she glared at him.

"Hermione, she is justified in her thinki-"

"How!" she shouted, "How can she think that my father could push a boy out the window who is bigger than him, what proof does she have that it was him."

"She found blonde hair-"

"Oh, so that means it was automatically him does it, "she growled, "Because he was the only person in Winterfell to have short blonde hair?"

"It was long-"

"Then how was it him!" she cried. Robb stayed silent as Hermione's tears renewed with ferocity, her chest heaving with the force of her breathing. He waited until she calmed down to approach her, embracing her tightly.

"I'm sorry Hermione."

"You have the wrong Lannister," she sobbed, "He wouldn't hurt a child."

Robb wanted to push her, ask what she meant but it seemed she had reached her breaking point. Her knees gave out on her as sobs racked through her body as she repeated the two phrases over and over again. Robb sunk to his knees, not letting her go. He buried his face in her golden curls and squeezed his eyes shut. Her cries hurt him and he decided then and there that he would do everything in his power to make sure she never cried again.

He rocked her back and forth until her sobs died down and her breathing evened out.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she pulled back to look into his eyes.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Robb said firmly, "We will fix this. I don't really know how but we will."

Hermione nodded and lay her head back on Robb's chest and listened to his strong heartbeat, it soothed her, made her feel safe. Grey Wind decided to show up in that moment, pushing his large head between the two so he could nuzzle against Hermione.

"I think he knows you saved his sister," Robb said with a fond smile.

"I would do it for any of you," she said to the large wolf. He huffed in her face before going to sit beside his mater.

"Hermione," Robb started cautiously, "You said my mother had 'the wrong Lannister'. What did you mean?"

"I," she frowned, "I have no proof."

"Would you tell me what you're thinking?"

Hermione contemplated her thoughts for a moment before letting out a shaky breath.

"I need to speak with Bran."

"He doesn't remember anything," Robb replied.

"I think he does," she said quietly, "What young boy would confess to what he saw if he was threatened?"

"Do not push him too far," Robb warned gently.

"Never," Hermione vowed. They stood together and made their way back to the hall. Hermione ran her fingers through her hair to bring some sort of order back to it after her outburst, her red, tear stained face she could do naught about.

"Everyone, clear the room except Bran please," Robb commanded as he re-entered the room. Bran looked at his brother worriedly as everyone frowned at the young lord but left anyway. Theon hung about the doorway but when Robb gave him a stern glance he retreated, closing the doors behind him. Hermione warded the room again as she walked over to sit next to Bran. She turned his chair to face her, so their knees were touching.

"Bran," she started gently, "I need to ask you a few things. If I am pushing you too much please let me know so I can stop. Are you okay with this?"

Bran looked between the woman in front of him and his brother who gave him an encouraging nod. Summer and Grey Wind sat on either side of the boy, giving him their unspoken support.

"Thank you," she smiled, "Can you tell me what you remember from that day?"

"I fell," he stated simply and quickly.

"Before that, do you remember walking with me?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember what you said to me before you started your climb? I told you to be careful and you told me..." she prompted. Robb watched his brother's eyes, he was nervous.

"That I never fall," he whispered as tears gathered in his eyes.

"Bran? Bran look at me," Hermione called softly, "Listen to me now, you did nothing wrong and no one will hurt you, I promise you that."

"They already tried," he whispered, "They will keep trying if I remember."

"What you tell us does not leave this room, only Robb and I have to know," she promised him.

"But you'll hate me," he croaked as one tear slipped down his face. Hermione's heart broke as she embraced the boy.

"Bran I could never hate you," she vowed, "Was it a Lannister?"

He tensed in her hold and he didn't need to say anything for her to begin thinking her theory was completely true.

"Was it my father?" she asked softly.

"No."

Robb watched his brothers face where it faced him from atop Hermione's shoulder. He remembered everything.

"Was it the Queen and my uncle?" she asked so softly that Robb almost didn't hear her. Bran let out a single broken sob as wrapped his arms as tight as he could around her neck.

"Oh Bran," she felt her heart sink. She clutched the boy to her chest, hoping to comfort him any way she could, "I definitely don't hate you."

"But they're your family," he cried softly.

"People who push young boys out of a window are not those I consider family," she said fiercely, "You are more family than they are."

"You really won't tell anyone," he asked her.

"I swear on my life that unless you wish it to be known I will not tell another soul."

"But your father-"

"Is a smart man and will find a way to show your mother that he is not the one to hurt you," she promised him. She supposed her words were to reassure him as much as they were to reassure her. Yes, her father was a smart man but a mother seeking revenge for her pup was not something to be taken lightly. Robb watched the entire exchange with mixed feeling.

He felt shame for treating Tyrion the way he had, for even suspecting Hermione had anything to do with it. He was furious at the Queen and Jamie Lannister, he wanted nothing more than to call the banners and march on King's Landing demanding their head but he knew that was an act of war. He was also thankful for Hermione, for how she protected his family without strings attached. His heart welled at the way she handled Bran; she would make an amazing mother.

They were once again interrupted by an urgent knock on the door.

"What now?" Robb grumbled as he went to open the door. Bran had calmed in Hermione's embrace and now sat back in his chair, patting Summer's head.

"Our faces match now," he heard Hermione jest to Bran about their red faces as he opened the door.

"My Lord, another raven," Maester Luwin said. Robb knew his day was about to get much worse seeing the look in the old man's eyes.

"Don't tell me she killed him?" Robb dreaded.

"No, his one is from King's Landing, from Jory."

Robb took the rolled-up parchment and squinted at the shaky writing. Jory was hurt, badly, and so was his father. Jamie Lannister had attacked them in the city for the capture of his brother and killed all the Stark men but him.

"Robb?" Hermione called. Robb said nothing as he approached her and handed her the raven. She read it with wide horrified eyes.

"This will start a war," she exclaimed softly, "What was he thinking!"

"I don't know where to go from here Hermione," he admitted softly, "Any act I take against your family could endanger my sisters and my father even more but I also cannot let this go unpunished."

Hermione thought for a minute, she had a few ideas running through her head but only one stuck with her.

"Send me to King's Landing," she said. The men in the room looked at her in surprise, Bran sat silently behind her, not fully understanding what was going on.

"Send me there, I'll tell them that I fled as soon as word of my father's capture reached us. I will use my time there to try and extract your family from the keep and bring them back here."

"I couldn't ask you to do that," Robb stated, "You would be in too much danger."

"You didn't ask me Robb. What my 'family' has done to yours is unforgivable and I made a promise to your father to protect his family. Don't make me an oath breaker Robb Stark," she retorted with a small smile.

"I wouldn't have you go alone," he insisted with gritted teeth.

"And who would you send with me? They would need to know what I can do and the only option would be Theon but he would be more use to you here."

"Let me send an emissary from one of my bannerman with you. You wouldn't be expected in the capital for at least a fortnight, wait for the emissary to get here and then you can do your disappearing act. They won't ask questions, I swear it."

It was a last-ditch effort to get her to stay and by all accounts it made logical sense. Hermione was impatient to get to Lord Stark but knew that she would need some time to gather all the necessary items she would need. She conceded, letting her body relax as Robb grasped her hand in his.

"This will all work out, I promise."

A week it took for the emissary to be called for and arrive in Winterfell. Hermione spent that time holed up in her room, charming items, going over maps and was even allowed to turn her room in to an apothecary of sorts. Robb provided any items she would need and even sat in the room as she mixed her potions, asking her a million questions.

It both annoyed and endeared her. The amount of interest he was showing in this side of her made her feel wholly accepted and happy but she also liked to concentrate in silence. He was awed as she showed him a small pouch she had charmed. His couldn't withhold his shout of surprised when her arm disappeared inside it only to pull out a large tome.

Bran also sat in with them a few times, awed by the magic he was seeing. He asked her why she hid her magic when she could do such amazing things.

"People would try to kill me because they would perceive me as a threat or they would try to use my gifts to hurt others," she had explained. He seemed to understand this and nodded with a small frown marring his face.

"Lady Lannister," Robb called, shaking Hermione from her thoughts, "I would like you to meet Cera Snow, a warrior fostered by the women in Bear Island."

"Snow?" Hermione asked with slight surprise. The woman was tall, maybe around 5'9 with fiery red waves cascading down her back, the front pulled away from her face. Her chocolate brown eyes were hard and cold as they starred upon her. Of the skin she could see, her neck and face, she could see she was pale with freckles sprinkled across her cheeks, she was almost too beautiful to be thought of as a warrior.

"Yes, I am a bastard," the woman said with a glare, "And if you really need to know specifics, I'm the bastard of Great Jon Umber."

"I meant not offence," Hermione said quickly, "Was only surprised is all."

Cara grunted in acceptance and looked back to Robb who looked a little surprised at the exchange. He knew the women from Bear Island were mouthy and fierce but not to this extent.

"I wouldn't have you travelling with a man," he explained, "The women from Bear Island are strong and I trust them to protect you in the capital."

"I would need to change her appearance a bit," Hermione admitted as she starred at Cera, "She would stick out too much in the capital."

"I ain't wearing no bloody dress," Cera growled out with narrowed eyes.

"I would need to disguise you as a man," Hermione said gently.

"Fine," the woman replied simply, "Make me a man, just don't put me in a fucking dress."

"Cera," Robb scolded.

"It's fine," Hermione assured him, "I'm not too fond of dresses myself but as a member of House Lannister I don't have much of a choice."

"Hm, when do we leave?" Cera asked impatiently.

"Have you told her everything?" Hermione asked Robb cautiously. Robb's Tully blue eyes bore into hers, emotions swimming in their depths. He stepped towards her and grasped her forearms.

"Aye, only enough for her not to ask questions or turn on you in fright," he confirmed, "Do you have to go?"

"I do," she said, resting her hand on his cheek. He leaned into her touch, his gaze begging her to stay, "I promised your father that I would protect his family. When I bring them back, we shall wed."

"I would like nothing more," he murmured.

"When do we leave?" Cera asked from behind them. She was looking everywhere but at the pair, probably trying to give them a little privacy.

"Right now," Hermione laughed, "But first you need a disguise, please don't be afraid."

"I ain't afraid of a haircut," Cera snapped.

"This isn't a haircut Cera," Robb laughed, "Just stand still."

Cera watched suspiciously as Hermione approached her. The smaller woman lifted her hands and touched Cera's face. The red head wanted nothing more than to shake her off but obeyed her Lords command to remain still.

Hermione closed her eyes and concentrated, picturing in her mind what she needed Cera to look like so her magic could form the illusion. Cera's fiery red hair lightened to a strawberry blonde, her face becoming sharper, wider, her body losing its womanly curves and forming into that of a male warrior.

"What did you do to me," Cera growled in a low baritone.

"It's only an illusion," Hermione reassured her.

"I told you she was gifted," Robb stated proudly, absolutely astounded at the transformation in front of him.

"You said she could make things float and heal injuries with a bloody potion, not actually turn me into a man."

"Would you have preferred the dress," he chuckled.

"My Lord-."

"You are still you," Hermione interjected quickly, "It's only an illusion, a real disguise, you'll need to pretend to be a Lannister guard that my father left to protect me."

Cera glared at the prospect of wearing Lannister colours but understood that it was necessary to get inside King's Landing.

"Well what are we waiting for then?" she asked impatiently, "Are we going or not."

"Don't let go," Hermione smiled warmly as she grasped Cera's gloved hand.

"Wha-" Cera didn't get to finish her question as the two women disappeared.

"Please be safe," Robb whispered as he left to attend to his duties.


	12. Chapter 11

**I have a few things I need to get off my chest.**

**First**: I have to apologise; I got the timing of Jons's vows wrong. Please forgive me

**Second**: A review pointed out to me that my Hermione was 'lame'. I appreciate your honest opinion and the effort you made into trying to like this story. I cannot please everyone and I am sorry I could not make Hermione what you wanted her to be. In saying that, if anyone has any suggestions or anything, they would like to see her do or change about herself please let me know so I can take it into consideration.

It was pointed out that she was at the heel of Tywin Lannister for the majority of her life, yes, she was but she is also a girl and a girl in Tywin's eyes is nothing but a brood mare and pawn to seal alliances. She is not deceitful, ruthless and manipulative by nature, in any life she is given, but when the situation calls for it, she can use them.

**Third**: DRAGON EGGS! I have been asked if I will hatch them early, to allow them to grow bigger than Dany's dragons (since hers were stunted in growth a few times from starvation and being locked up) and the answer is…NO! They will hatch and they will be bigger than Dany's dragons but I have a big even planned and a few twists to add in, I assure you, you will love it…or think its completely lame haha!

**Lastly**: I will be writing some major scenes soon and you may think 'Why would she change that?' or 'Why couldn't she let them live?' or simply 'What the actual fuck?'

Let me just say that not everything that I write has obvious outcomes at the time and will be revealed much later, not everything is what it seems.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or Game of Thrones

**Chapter 11**

"What the fuck was that!" Cera balked as she attempted to keep the contents of her stomach from spilling out on to the stone courtyard that lay beneath their feet. She lost the battle and heaved what was in her stomach all over the pavement.

"Shh," Hermione scolded as she looked around the corner of the building, "It's the fastest way to get here."

"And where is here," Cera shot back quietly as she wiped her mouth. They were behind a small building, an Inn if the noise inside was anything to go by. The moon shone down from above, illuminating the courtyard and the people walking in and out of the small establishment.

"We are at Ivy Inn, just north of King's Landing," Hermione explained, "I need you to go inside and purchase two horses so we can ride to King's Landing, they won't believe we came on foot in this short amount of time."

"And with what money am I to buy these horses with My Lady," Cera grumbled sarcastically. Hermione rolled her eyes with a smile, loving the woman's spirit and handed her a small pouch of silver. Gold would draw too much attention, even though the establishment would be used to rich folk travelling through. Cera grunted as the weight of the pouch was dropped into her hand. She stalked inside as Hermione waited patiently.

Half an hour she waited before Cera emerged from the building with a self-satisfied smile gracing her features. A red blotch marred her pale skin, a bruise forming on her jaw.

"What happened?" Hermione asked concerned.

"Some fucker thought he could sell his horses, take my money and then draw a sword on me," she said, "Knocked him on his ass I did."

"I didn't hear a fight," Hermione mumbled confused.

"Course not, couldn't even consider it a fight anyway," Cera said proudly, "He was knocked out cold in an instant."

Cera led the smaller woman to the stables and pointed out two chestnut horses. They were saddled and ready to go, the man who owned them obviously didn't care to remove their tack while they rested. The horses seemed a little nervous but with some calming words, Hermione was surprised at Cera's gentle nature towards the creatures, they were off, riding down the road towards the gates of King's Landing.

They arrived at the gate of the Red Keep when the sun was at its peak the next day, exactly 8 days since the ravens had arrived at Winterfell carrying their life changing messages. It had been hell trying to battle through the crowds of townspeople that littered the street. Cera had her hands full attempting to keep Hermione's face hidden and keeping people away from their horses to avoid pickpockets, some wretches even attempted to pull Hermione from her horse.

"Halt, state your name and business," the two guards called as the women approached the gate.

"Lady Lannister," they gasped as Hermione lowered her hood. The gate was opened immediately and a member of the Kingsguard approached them.

"Take their horses," he commanded. Two small stable boys ran over and took the animals reins as the women dismounted. Cera glared down at one of them with her disguised chocolate eyes as they looked up at her in awe. Her stature as a man was frightening, her build rivalling that of Sandor Clegane.

"Who is this?" the Kingsguard asked gruffly, gesturing to Cera.

"One of my father's guards, Sir Rubeus from the Crag," Hermione thought quickly. Cera glanced at the smaller woman with a raised brow and then stiffly bowed to the man in front of her.

"Honoured to meet you sir," she said. Hermione's brow ticked as the man just grunted in acknowledgement.

"It is rude to ask for a name without first giving your own. I would have expected more from my good uncles Kingsguard," she quipped.

"Cousin," he smirked back at her.

"Your name is cousin," Hermione cocked her brow. She knew this wasn't the case but the man was being infuriatingly vague. He started leading them through the keep, probably to the throne room.

"Of course, not My Lady. You said I was a member of your good uncles Kingsguard. That is incorrect, I am a member of your cousin's Kingsguard. King Jeoffrey," he explained haughtily. Hermione felt the blood drain from her face but willed her hard expression not to falter. How could Jeoffrey be king? Just what had happened since they had received the ravens and what the bloody hell had they just walked into.

"You didn't hear?" he continued, "King Robert was killed on a hunting trip. A boar got him, gutted him. They say the old fool was too drunk to walk straight let alone participate in a hunt."

"I see," Hermione replied softly as she composed herself, "How is my Aunt faring?"

"She has had to put aside her grieving to support our King. When Ned Stark attempted to usurp the throne from King Jeoffrey we were forced to kill almost all of their men, take the daughters prisoner and tighten security. The Queen Reagent has not left her son's side since."

Hermione took all of this information in, her mind spinning with the weight of it. She knew Cera was barely containing her rage from behind her and prayed she would continue to do so. The knight, who had still refused to give his name, opened the doors to the throne room quietly so as not to disturb the current appointments the King was attending too. He gave Hermione a subtle push inside before closing the door behind her, arrogant prat.

Hermione gazed around the room, nothing that almost all members of importance were in attendance, including Petyr Baelish and Lord Vary's. Majority of the Kingsguard were also stationed around the large chambers in full armour, helms included.

She had always been a quick thinker but that was when she had all the fact, or majority of them anyway. She was the brains of the trio of friends she had in her previous life, it's what had kept them alive long enough to have a hope of saving the wizarding world. She had come here with a plan but it seemed she would need to gather intel and adapt to the new situation at hand if she had any chance of the Starks escaping King's Landing alive.

She trained her focus on the front of the room as Sir Barristan Selmy brushed past Cera who was shielding her from view. A mousy haired man stepped forward to address the crowd.

"If any man in this hall has other matters to settle before his grace, let him speak now or go forth and hold his silence."

People looked around at each other, trying to pick out who would step forward, if any. It was an unlikely voice that spoke up, one of the very people Hermione was looking for. Sansa's red hair shone in the light of the room, done up in an elaborate southern style, her light green dress complementing her skin flawlessly.

"Your grace," she called with only a barest of nervousness seeping through her words. The populace turned to stare at the young girl, harsh judgement or put filling their gazes. Hermione glared at them before taking a deep breath to compose herself. She was here to help the Stark's, not cause a scene.

"Move forward my lady," Jeoffrey called to her. Hermione looked upon her cousin, he had grown a little since she had seen him last, his hair darkening to a deeper golden hue. His features had lost almost all traces of baby fat and he sat with an air of superiority. This wouldn't have worried Hermione much, Jeoffrey had always been entitled and arrogant but there was new light in his eyes that chilled her to the core.

On the surface he was cool and charming but she could see the perverted amusement and cruelty hidden behind the grassy green depths.

She watched as Sansa knelt to the floor in her dress, never letting her eyes drop from that of the Kings. He starred back at her with a barely contained smirk, a knowing glint in his eyes.

"As it please, your grace I ask mercy for my father," she started, "Lord Eddard Stark who is Hand of the King."

"Treason is a noxious weed, it should be torn out," Grand Maester Pycelle said scathingly. To her credit, Sansa didn't flinch or lower her gaze, she stayed strong.

"Let her speak, I want to hear what she says," Jeoffrey interrupted the old man. He was playing the part of a fair king well; Hermione may even have believed him is she didn't know him better.

"Thank you, your grace," Sansa said, her adoration not at all hidden.

"Do you deny your father's crimes?" Littlefinger called out to her.

"No, My Lords," she replied, her confidence slipping just a little, "I know he must be punished, all I ask is mercy. I know my Lord father must regret what he did, he was King Robert's friend and he loved him. You all know he loved him. He never wanted to be Hand until the king asked him. They must have lied to him Lord Renly or Lord Stannis or somebody, they must have lied."

Her words were strong, her conviction shining through. There was no way this girl believed her father could ever be a traitor.

"He said I wasn't the King," Jeoffrey reminded her with a hurt expression on his face, drawing emotions from the girl in front of him, "Why did he say that?"

"He was badly hurt," Sansa tried to explain, "Maester Pycelle was giving him Milk of the Poppy. He wasn't himself otherwise he never would have said it."

There was silence throughout the throne room as Jeoffrey looked genuinely thoughtful. Beside him his mother was pursing her lips, starring the younger girl down. The Maester in question was avoiding anyone's gaze while Baelish starred calculatingly at her.

"A child's faith, such sweet innocence," Vary's commented, "And yet they say wisdom oft comes from the mouths of a babes."

"Treason is treason," Pycelle raised his voice. It was a weak argument, everyone in the room knew it.

"Anything else?" Jeoffrey asked expectantly.

"If you still have any affection in your heart for me, please do me this kindness your grace," she pleaded. He sat back, contemplating her words.

"Your sweet words have moved me," he said, "But I have a question for you my dear Sansa."

"Anything your grace," she replied.

"What of my cousin, the one who is set to marry your brother. Will they show her mercy once they learn of what has transpired here?"

"My brother would never hurt her," she promised quickly, "He is a man of honou-"

"Your father was 'a man of honour' was he not?" he retorted, "Unless she is returned safely, I believe I will withhold my judgement of mercy."

You could almost hear the wind being knocked out of Sansa Stark as she knelt before the king. Her shoulders slumped and her eyes finally fell to the floor. Hermione supposed this was a good a time as any to make her appearance. She stepped out from behind Cera's large form and quickly pushed her way to the front of the room, plastering a fake relieved expression on her face.

"It is a good thing I am here then cousin," she called out to him. His eyes snapped to meet hers, widening in surprise, as did the rest of the room who started murmuring amongst themselves. Sansa turned her head to look up at Hermione with pleading eyes, but Hermione resisted the urge to return her gaze.

"I left under the cover of night when the ravens came," she explained quickly, "I knew it was no longer safe for me there until all the facts were brought to light. My father's guard escorted me here, we avoided the roads and rode almost non-stop."

"Your intelligence astounds me cousin," he grinned at her, "Please allow one of my servants to take you to your rooms to rest, I will come and see you later."

"Please you grace, I have information that you must hear," she pleaded, ideas running through her mind quickly, "While I was on the road we passed a group of solders from the Vale, it seems that Lady Catelyn Stark was given false information about the attempted assassination of her son which led to the arrest of my father."

"Go on," he ushered her, eager to hear what she had to tell, "They also stated that someone from the Vale, they did not say who, sent Lord Stark false information that Jon Arryn had been accumulating in order for him to question your lineage. I spent more time with the Starks than anyone else in this room your grace, I am even betrothed to their heir and I believe that they are noble and honourable to fault."

"To a fault is right," Lord Baelish gritted out. His eyes held a well concealed panic, but it was there none the less.

"Quite right Lord Baelish," Hermione agreed, "Your grace, Lord Stark did commit treason, this is true, but it was by knowledge that was fed to him by people he considered family."

"You would have me show them mercy?" he asked with irritation lacing his words. Sansa still knelt on the floor, tense, her breaths quiet and shallow.

"Lord Stark is honourable to a fault, correct?" she asked him. Jeoffrey eyes her with a curious frown, wondering where she was going with this, "Let him take the black and serve at the Wall for the rest of his life alongside his bastard, the only other tarnish on his infamous honour."

"Lord Stark cannot be allowed to live after-"

"Quiet mother," Jeoffrey snapped and then turned back to Hermione with a contemplative expression, "To kill a traitor or allow him to live his life in a cold desolate place where he will never see his family again and live in perpetual dishonour."

"It would be quite fitting your grace," Lord Vary's spoke up, "The Nights Watch is made up of bastards and criminals, there would be no bigger disgrace you could bestow upon Lord Stark."

"And what of his son, Robb?" Baelish interjected, "You're betrothed?"

"I will not have my cousin, a Lannister, marry the son of a traitor," Jeoffrey growled.

"Your grace," Hermione said quickly, words spilling out of her mouth almost as soon as she thought of them, "Allow me to marry Robb Stark."

The crowd around her gasped and the murmuring started up again. The Lords looked at her with chock and suspicion written across their faces while the Queen looked positively murderous.

"Excuse me?" Jeoffrey asked. Hermione could now see a part of his façade cracking, anger starting to shine in his gaze.

"The North will rebel with any punishment given to Lord Stark," she explained, "Allow me to marry Robb Stark and hold the north for you."

"You're a woman," Cercei bit out, "You cannot hold anything."

"You once told me that a woman's most powerful weapon was the one between her legs," Hermione retorted, "Robb is in love with me, allow me to become his Lady and I promise the North will be yours."

"And his children?" Cercei stated.

"My children will be loyal to their family," Hermione insisted, looking Jeoffrey in the eye. His anger seemed to have calmed down, an excited gleam shining through his eyes.

"Lady Sansa," he called out, his eyes not leaving Hermione's.

"Your grace," the young girl acknowledged.

"I believe you owe your thanks to my dear cousin here," he said coolly, "Her words have cemented my resolve and as such I will allow your father mercy so long as he admits in front of the entire capital that I am the rightful king and that he is to take the black and serve out the rest of his disgraced life at the Wall."

"Thank you, Lady Lannister," Sansa said bowing her head to Hermione, "Your kindness knows no bounds your grace."

"Should he refuse to bend the knee and claim me as the rightful king," Jeoffrey said, halting the standing girl in her tracks, "There will be no mercy."


	13. Chapter 12

**I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE!**

This was always going to be a JonxHermione story, following cannon up until the red wedding where it would deviate from cannon, though some of the big events would still happen, just not in the way you think.

Half of you want it to stay Jon and Hermione, half of you want Robb and Hermione. Half of you want the Red Wedding, half of you don't.

I cannot please everyone in one story…

**SO I WILL BE POSTING A SECOND! **

Same name and same chapters up until the point where everything changes and deviates, that's where I will change the story completely (except the big things like the white walkers etc). I want to make you guys happy, so I hope this comes as good news to you. Once we get to the deviation point, I will post the second story and update each one at the same time. I don't have a set schedule, I write whenever it comes to me, which is almost every day.

I don't want to force words onto paper, I want what I'm thinking and feeling to come to life freely so that you guys have some quality shit to read.

Now with that out of the way, please enjoy the last chapter for season 1.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter or Game of Thrones

**Chapter** **12**

Hermione paced back and forth in her chamber as the sun started to set over the city. She had been ushered out of the throne room quickly and to her usual chambers. Servants had clamoured around her practically tearing off her dress and throwing her into a bath.

"So dirty," one of them had tutted, and older woman with greying hair.

She wasn't dirty, they had only ridden for half a day, sure her dress had been a little wrinkled and grubby from the hands that grabbed her in Flea Bottom but her skin was fine, just a little sweaty is all. They had scrubbed her skin until it was red raw, her scalp tingling from pain as they brushed out her golden curls.

A red nightgown adorned her body with a translucent golden robe hanging over her shoulders. She looked every part a real Lady of House Lannister. If only her father could see her now. She sighed wistfully, she longed to see her father again, to have his arms wrapped around her in a comforting embrace, whispering words of encouragement and intelligence in her ears.

"You summoned me My Lady?" a deep voice said from behind her. Hermione gasped and spun to see a still disguised Cera at her door. She quickly pulled the woman into the room, shut the door and set up her wards. She let the disguise fall from the woman's form, her stature shrinking, hair growing and darkening to her usual fiery red.

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked her. She was going to start off their conversation with another topic but couldn't help but ask when she saw the screwed up, disgusted expression on the red heads face.

"I was shown the bath chambers for the guards," she stated, "Said I was too dirty to be escorting a Lannister anywhere."

"So, you're upset because you had to bathe?" Hermione asked completely perplexed.

"No," she growled, "I am a woman and can appreciate the male body just like any other warm-blooded female but if I see another cock again it will be too fucking soon."

Hermione's mouth formed a 'O' shape. She now understood Cera's less than happy disposition. She let the awkward silence play out for a few more moments before giving Cera the bad news.

"You cannot be a knight anymore," she said and quickly added, "I was told a Kingsguard would be my only escort around King's Landing and that you would be sent back to the Crag come morning."

"So, what am I supposed to do?" Cera asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at the young woman.

"I need to disguise you as my handmaiden-"

"Fuck off," Cera growled, "I said no bloody dresses."

"It's just a dress and it's only for a little while," Hermione tried to placate the warrior.

"No."

"Not even if it meant saving the Starks," Hermione challenged with a firm stare of her own. Cera glared at her, killing intent filling the air around them. They stayed like that for minutes before Cera looked away.

"Fine," she consented, "But no frills and I refuse to wipe your ass for you."

"That won't be necessary," Hermione laughed, "I swear I'll make it as tolerable as I can for you."

"Bloody better," she grumbled as another glamour befell her features. Hermione didn't change much, just softened her features, hid the majority of her muscles, shrunk her a few inches and darkened her hair to a dark brown.

"What are you doing," Hermione squeaked as Cera started throwing her clothes off in front of her. She was down to her breeches in no time and just smirked at the blushing Lady.

"I need to get changed, don't I?" she sassed.

"Is that really necessary," Hermione retorted dryly. She knew the woman was just poking fun at her, getting some justice for her situation.

"As necessary as putting me in a dress My Lady," she quipped. Hermione just shoved a pale green dress into her arms and turned her eyes to the side, avoiding the now chuckling woman.

"What now?" Cera asked as she placed all of her armour and leather into a trunk in the corner of the room.

"Now we pay the Starks a visit."

The sound of an approaching horse thudded in Robbs ears as he watched his mother ride up the hill towards him. He stood waiting with his army at the edge of the woods overlooking the impressive structure of the Twins. He had ridden out to meet his mother as soon as Hermione had left Winterfell. She thought he had called for just an emissary of one of his bannerman, she had locked herself up and not noticed that he had called his entire league of banners to accompany him down south to march on King's Landing.

He needed to cross the Twins in order to do that.

"In 600 years, the Frey's have never failed to extract their toll," his mother had said before riding off alone to negotiate terms. She had been gone for hours and was only just now returning. He escorted her to the war tent where the heads of his Bannerman waited on the news that she brought them. They were silent on the way there, the frown on his mother's face not making Robb feel at ease.

"Thank you for waiting my lords," Robb said as they were all finally situated around the table.

"What news do you bring mother?" Robb asked as all eyes turned to the troubled woman.

"Lord Walder has granted you passage," she announced. Relieved breaths could be heard around the room but Robb wasn't fully convinced this was good news.

"His men are yours as well," she continued, "Less the 400 men he will keep here to hold the crossing to any who would pursue you."

"And what does he want in return," Robb asked bluntly.

"You will be taking on his son Olyvar as your personal squire," she replied, "He expects a knighthood in good time."

"Fine, fine," Robb accepted, "And?"

Catelyn now looked sheepish and hesitant to deliver the rest of the terms.

"And Arya will marry his son Waldron when they both come of age."

"She won't be happy," Robb said flatly. His wild little sister would never marry, he was sure of it, she would never be tamed. To force her into such a thing was cruel and hurt him to think of it.

"I know," Catelyn murmured as she avoided his gaze. She shifted from foot to foot, her expression indicating she still wasn't finished.

"And?" Robb prompted with a frown, what more could Lord Frey want from him.

"And," she breathed, looking into his eyes, "When the fighting is done, you will marry one of his daugh-"

"Absolutely not," Robb growled, "You may have forgotten mother that I am already honour bound for marriage with somebody else."

"I won't have my son marrying the daughter of the man who tried to kill my son," she spat.

"I have told you that you took the wrong Lannister," he retorted, "You may be my mother but what right do you have to break the word of my father that I would marry her."

"You father is not here," she tried to reason with him. The lords looked from boy to mother, their expressions varied. Some respected Robb's choice to keep his betrothal intact, some even thought it would be to the boy's advantage. Others were mad that he would still consider tying himself to her because of the ties she had to the people who had imprisoned his father and butchered their men.

"No," Robb said deadly, "He is in a dungeon in King's Landing where Lady Lannister has gone to try and free him."

"And you trust her?" Catelyn exclaimed.

"I do," he roared, finally at his breaking point. The Lords now looked started as Catelyn recoiled from her son.

"Why?"

"Because I know who really tried to kill Bran," he replied with narrowed eyes.

"Smells like shit and piss down here," Cera whispered as they descended the stairs that led to the dungeons.

"That's because no one ever cleans the dungeons, lets the prisoners waste away in their own filth and the filth of others that came before them," Hermione replied with a wrinkled nose. She had never personally been down here, only heard stories from her father about the treatment of prisoners.

Cera carried a torch, lighting their way. She had to hike up her skirts so as to not trip and if her grumbling was anything to go by, she was not happy. Hermione had opted to cover herself with a heavy woollen cloak to hide her face, she couldn't afford to let anyone know she had been down here.

"Who goes there?" a gruff voice called out. Cera moved the torch and revealed the stony face of Eddard Stark. He was covered in dirt, his hair matted and clothes stained. The Warden of the North looked nothing more than a common prisoner now and it broke Hermione's heart. Cera stayed standing as Hermione knelt down and lowered her hood. Lord Stark's eyes widened as he took in the appearance of the young girl.

"Hello Lord Stark," she greeted softly, tears prickling in her eyes.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in a rushed whisper.

"I came to free you," she replied. She waved her hand around the room, concentrating on her magic in order to dispel the smells assaulting their senses.

"You couldn't do that sooner," Cera grunted quietly.

She placed her hand on Lord Stark's cheek and in moment he was free of the dirt and grime that covered his skin, his hair clean and tied neatly back and the stains missing from his clothes. He breathed in a deep breath, relieved to be clean and not sitting in a room of his own shit.

"You can't help me now Hermione," he said solemnly, "My execution is set for the morning."

"But Sansa-"

"Vary's told me what she did, what you did and I am indebted to you but Stannis is the rightful heir to the throne," he explained, his resolve cemented.

"You know," Hermione gasped.

"Aye," he confirmed. She didn't care how he came to know about, she was honestly surprised it took something this long to figure it out. Blonde was a recessive gene so it was unlikely that all three of Cersei's children would have the Lannister golden hair when their father was black of hair.

'Then again,' she thought, 'This world didn't know about dominant and recessive genes.'

"I can still free you and protect the girls," she insisted, "Though I have heard rumours that Arya has disappeared."

"She might already be free," Ned mused with a smirk, "My wild little wolf."

"And Sansa?" she asked with anger tinting her words, "You would let her suffer the death of her father simply because honour demands it?"

Ned seemed to contemplate this; his confidence shook. His honour was such a big part of him that he had forgotten the most important thing, his family.

"You would let your son fight a war in vain?" Cera pipped up from behind Hermione. Oh yes, Robb had called his bannerman. If she hadn't holed herself up in her room for a week, she may have taken notice that all of his bannerman had been called not just Cera. She felt foolish but she also felt irritated, Robb hadn't even hinted at it let alone told her.

Lord Stark's shoulders slumped even further.

"I can no longer fight, my leg will never heal quite right," he admitted.

"You can still advise him," Hermione shot back.

"No," he rasped out, "I fear even should I confess to my 'sins' Joffrey would still slit my throat."

"So, you won't even try," Cera growled.

"Mind your tone," he shot back, "I don't care who you are, you do not speak to a Lord in such a manner."

"Some Lord," she muttered as she turned away.

"Hermione," he sighed, "I will think on what you have said but no matter what happens, promise me that you will get Sansa out of here."

"I promise," she vowed instantly. She lowered her eyes, desperation starting to leak through.

"I could take you from here, "she said, "Right here and now, I could take you back to Winterfell and then come back for Sansa."

"My Lady," he replied softly, "I appreciate what you are trying to do, truly I do, but do you really think that whisking me away in the middle of the night is the right thing to do? Aye, you could take us both away but we do not know where Arya is, she might be free, she might not. I think it's best I play their game until I know for a fact, she is safe."

"You would be seen as craven should you flee in the night," Cera muttered, "Not just you but your whole family should you get to Robb and halt his march."

"At least they would be alive," Hermione shot back.

"Aye, we would be alive, but disgraced," Lord Stark said in resignation, "The realm is now in the hands of a boy with everyone whispering in his ear. I must play my part if I wish to keep my family safe. I'll confess to my crimes on the morrow and take the Black."

"You said yourself that he may just kill you anyway," Hermione reminded him, "Why would you risk it when I can get you out now."

"You would take me against my will?" he asked with a raised brow.

"No but-"

"Then let me play my part Lady Lannister. You were raised by Tywin Lannister, maybe it's time to start acting like it."

Hermione's breath hitched as she took in his words. They hurt. She could easily use her magic to get him out of here, it would be so easy…but he was right, she needed to think of what would happen after. Should Lord Stark go missing and suddenly reappear in Winterfell it would raise all sorts of chaos. The efforts to kill him and his family would multiply exponentially, Joffrey could become irrational and a lot of innocent lives could be taken all for the sake of saving the Warden of the North.

She handed him two small flasks.

"Please, at least take these tomorrow before you are taken out. This one will numb the pain; you won't feel a thing should the worse come to pass. This one is just some Dornish wine I smuggled from the kitchens."

"You are a good woman Hermione Lannister," Ned said as he took the flasks, "Never let anyone tell you otherwise. I am sorry it had to come to this."

She nodded her head and stood to leave, averting her eyes from the man. She grabbed Cera's wrist and marched down the corridor, determination shining in her eyes.

"You're going the wrong way, out is up there," Cera said as she tried to pull Hermione to a stop. Hermione did stop, so suddenly that Cera nearly knocked her over.

"People like to shove it in my face that I was raised by Tywin Lannister," she snapped, "Yet they are always saying I'm nothing like him or the rest of my family. I'll show them just how much a Lannister I really am."

"You have another plan?" Cera asked doubtfully.

"Yes," Hermione bit out, "It's time to go see Jory, hopefully he is still alive down here."

Hermione awoke early the next morning, anxiety and dread filling her entire being. She hadn't been able to see Sansa last night as she was heavily guarded and refused visitors until her father's crimes had been answered for.

Cera was with the maids that came to her that morning, dressing her in the deep red and golds of House Lannister. Her hair was braided in an elaborate southern style, fitting for someone of her status. Joffrey had personally come to collect her, his golden crown perches on his equally golden head. Sansa followed behind him silently, her head bowed, but a confidence in her step, she was confident that her father would bend the knee and be free to take the Black, he would live.

'Please get there in time Cera,' Hermione thought as they settled a top of where the 'execution' would take place. The people of King's Landing surrounded the stage-like structure, shouting obscenities and curses.

"What lovely weather," Cercei stated as she stood on the other side of Sansa. Sansa was now looking slightly nervous at the crowd who were jeering and shouting at her.

Traitor. Bitch. Northern Whore. These were only some of the words thrown at her. More people called, telling her she wasn't worthy of their king. That she will never be their queen. Hermione grasped her hand tightly, trying to show her at least a small amount of comfort. A gentle squeeze back let her know that Sansa appreciated her gesture. Hermione glanced to the side as two guards brought forth the wounded and filth-ridden Lord Stark, iron chaining his wrists behind his back.

He was dragged through the crowd who called for his head, spat on him and threw rotten substances at him. Hermione saw his expression change into one of panic as he shouted to a man in the crowd.

"Baelor!" he cried. The man turned to where his Lord Stark had subtly gestured, Hermione followed his line of site and saw a small girl perched in the shadows of one of the stone statues in the pavilion.

"Arya," she whispered.

"What?" Sansa asked quietly.

"She's alive," Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. But how would she get her out of King's Landing alive? She caught the girl's eyes for a second and saw surprise quickly turn into that of unadulterated hatred. Hermione winced internally, Arya thought she was in on this. Said girl quickly looked down to her wrist and ripped off her cuff, the one that Hermione had enchanted in case she should ever need help.

'They never used them,' she thought. Yes, Ned had called her to save Lady, but why did none of them call her when everything when tits up in King's Landing?

"I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King," Lord Stark called from his place before the people of King's Landing. Dread filled Hermione's entire being. She knew that whatever happened today would shape the future of the entire realm though she suspected the outcome would be much the same. Wars, politics and death would come in abundance, she just hoped they were all ready.

"I come before you to confess my treason in the sight of gods and men. I betrayed the faith of my king and the trust of my friend Robert. I swore to defend and protect his children, but before his blood ran cold, I plotted to kill his son and cease the throne for myself."

None of this was true, not even close but the townspeople ate it up like freshly cooked meat, they were ravenous. The shouting and cursing started up anew and Hermione could feel Sansa's hand gripping hers tighter and tighter as the moments dragged on.

"Let the High Septon and Baelor the Blessed bear witness to what I have said. Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne, by the grace of all the gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

The man hung his head, swaying slightly on his feet in his effort to stay standing, he was weak. Grand Maester Pycelle stepped forward to address the crowd but it was Joffrey she focused on and what he would say next.

"My mother and cousin wish for me to allow Lord Eddard to join the Nights Watch, live out his disgraced life next to that of his bastard son on the Wall. He would be stripped of all titles and land, living out the rest of his life in exile."

Sansa's hand was squeezing Hermione's so tightly she wondered if the girl even knew how much strength she had. Her fingers were tingling with the lack of blood reaching them but Hermione's grip didn't falter.

"My Lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father," he announced as he looked at the girl in question. Sansa's gripped went lax as she smiled warmly at her King. His charming smile turned into that of a smirk and a feeling of cold, as icy as the Wall itself, swept through Hermione's being.

"But those are the soft hearts of women. So long as I am your King, treason will never go unpunished. Sir Illyn, bring me his head."

The chaos she anticipated erupted all around them, the crowd cheering and calling for Lord Stark demise, the Queen Reagent trying in vain to talk her son out of his decision, guards pushing Lord Stark to his knees.

"No!" Sansa cried as she lurched forward. Hermione grasped the girl's arms, embracing her so tightly, bringing them both to their knees as she tried to hold the young girl back from running to her father and getting killed in the process.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered as Sansa cried. Vary's ran over to plead with Joffrey, a man grabbed Arya in the crowd and held her tightly. Hermione watched with tear filled eyes as Ned Stark's head was removed from his body in one clean strike, rolling to a stop a few feet away. Hermione held Sansa's head to her chest, letting her cry against her as the guards and members of the council tempered the disorder surrounding them.

"He said you would help us," Sansa whimpered, "Why did you let him die?"

"I didn't," Hermione whispered back, "When you are alone in your chambers, call my name and I will be there, we have much to discuss."

They were pulled apart by the guards, ushered back into the keep, Sansa being taken back to her chambers to be kept under watch.

From the back of the crowd a set of dark eyes watched the scene unfold with narrowed eyes filled with pain. He pulled the cloak over his dark curls and turned to the city gates, it was time to go.


	14. Chapter 13

I HAVE ANOTHER ANNOUNCEMENT!

I'm totally kidding, enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter or Game of Thrones

**Chapter** **13**

Two weeks. Two weeks and Sansa had yet to call for her. She couldn't get to her in the middle of night because of all the guards surrounding her chambers and the girl avoided her during the day. Joffrey was holding nothing back now, taunting Sansa Stark openly and cruelly. Sansa had turned calculating; she now saw him for who he really was but played her part as a simpering girl well. Hermione had spent her time disguised in the streets of King's Landing, reading to the children, teaching them to read and write.

She returned from day three of her teachings to a wonderful surprise. Her father was here.

"Father!" she called, racing to him and dropping to her knees to embrace him. He chuckled at her enthusiasm and stroked her hair lovingly.

"You've gotten even more beautiful my dear," he complimented, "Robb is one lucky man though I'm surprised you aren't with him."

She stiffened in his arms and pulled back to look him in the eyes.

"I escaped when they took you prisoner, I was not sa-"

"Spare me child," he grinned, "Come to my chambers, I have missed you and we have so much to talk about."

'They are watching,' he said silently. Hermione nodded, there were many spies in King's Landing all belonging to different people. Varys, Baelish, the Queen, the list goes on. They arrived in his chambers not long after and Hermione erected her usual wards.

"You came here to save them," Tyrion stated as he poured himself a cup of wine, "How did that work out for you?"

"I couldn't save them all," she whispered with tears gathering in her eyes, "I don't know where Arya is, a man took her away when Joffrey cut her fathers head off."

"A fool," Tyrion muttered, "That boy is a complete fool."

Hermione just sat and waiting for her father to continue, she knew he wasn't done talking.

"We had three Starks to trade and now we have one."

"Trade?" Hermione frowned, "Why would we need to trade the Starks?"

"Because your betrothed has taken your uncle Jamie as a hostage."

Hermione didn't know what to say or how to feel. She was afraid for her uncle but also angry because she now knew he was the one to push Bran out that window. It was a smart move on Robb's part, to keep him alive as a hostage but on the other hand her grandfather would be furious, Jamie is the only one of his children he would do anything to get back.

"Tell me," Tyrion asked gently, "What is your plan now that Ned Stark is dead."

"He isn't," Hermione whispered as she raised her eyes to look upon her fathers surprised face.

"Hundreds of people heard him speak his crimes and watched his head be cleaved form his body," he said doubtful, "You're telling me they are all wrong?"

"You know what I can do yet you still doubt me father? I am your daughter and Lord Tywin's granddaughter, surely you should give me more credit."

"You're right," Tyrion laughed, "So tell me, how did you save Lord Stark?"

"Riders!" a man called out, "Riders from the south!"

The men bearing various Northern Sigil's surrounded the two riders, a woman with fiery red hair and a wounded man with dark curls hidden by a brown cloak and hood.

"Who are you," one of them shouted.

"Cera Snow, from Bear Island," Cera called back, "Returning South from a mission handed to me by Lord Robb Stark."

"And this one?" they asked as the duo was mere feet from them.

"Jory Cassel," one of them gasped as the man lowered his hood. The men rushed to help him from his horse as Cera followed silently. She was but a bastard up here, it was time for her to return to the women of Bear Island, she had to find Dacey Mormont.

Jory was ushered into a tent where he was left to bathe and have a maester check him over. He was malnourished, pale, injured but not near deaths door. Just as the servants were leaving, dropping off food for the returned solider, Robb Stark burst in and looked upon him in astonishment.

"Robb," he croaked as he staggered to his feet. Robb crossed the distance between them in seconds, enveloping the older man in a desperate embrace.

"How?" he asked.

"They never noticed a near dead Stark solider disappear amongst the chaos of the execution," he replied.

"You don't look near dead now," Robb commented as he looked over the man. He was thinner than usual, pale, and stood lopsided as if carrying his weight on one leg but he didn't look 'near death'. The maester looked over his wounds, some bruises on his body and small cuts but he stilled when he came to a bandage situated on the man's thigh. He unwrapped the bandage and looked at Jory suspiciously.

"They said you took a knife to the eye with almost no other injuries. They said you were lucky to be alive," the old man stated. Robb took a step back from Jory and narrowed his eyes.

"Who are you sir," he growled. Jory placed one hand over his right wrist where Robb saw a black leather cuff with the sigil of a direwolf engraved onto it.

"Maester please leave us," he said breathlessly. The maester looked at the boy strangely before nodding and disappearing from the tent.

"Father?" Robb whispered hoarsely.

"Aye," he replied shakily, "Lady Lannister tricked me, her and Jory."

"What happened?" he asked as they sat down at the table.

"She came to me the night before, begged me to let her free me. I couldn't do it though, something held me back. I kept making excuses, telling her that there would be consequences for the girls should I disappear. She handed me what she told me was a potion to numb the pain should the worst come to pass and another that was just 'Dornish wine'. I woke up the next morning to find Hermione's handmaiden, Cera, dressed in armour and replacing the cuff that Lady Hermione had given me."

"Then what?"

"We snuck out of the palace, we saw the execution and then we left, keeping away from the roads and the towns. I wanted to go back for the girls but Jory's sacrifice would have been in vain. Besides, Hermione will protect them."

"Jory's sacrifice?"

"Apparently they went to him after they left me in my cell that night, told him that they wanted to swap us, that Hermione would disguise us to look like each othe-"

"You said they would notice a great Lord go missing," Cera called from behind them, "But Hermione knew they wouldn't care for a soldier."

"Where is she?" Robb asked, "Did she come with you?"

"No," Ned said quietly, "She stayed with Sansa."

"Okay," Robb said quietly, "That's okay because now you're here and you can lead the army and we can get her ba-"

"No," he said solemnly, "I cannot reveal myself until my girls are safe. If word gets back to the capital that I am somehow alive, Sansa will be killed and Arya will be hunted."

"What do you mean hunted?" Robb asked.

"They don't have her, she got away," Ned explained.

"I sent mother off to make peace with Renly Baratheon," Robb confessed.

"Stannis is the rightful heir," Ned replied wearily, "But neither would make a good King."

"You would," Robb murmured, "You would make a great King."

"They called for his head," Cera said, "They will not follow him."

"We can make them," Robb countered.

"There is only one man that would make a good King but I made him give up any chance he had just so I could keep him safe," Ned announced softly.

"Who?" Robb asked quickly. Ned looked them both in the eyes quickly and then shook his head.

"I cannot tell you, not with the threat that someone could overhear us."

"Someone could have already overheard us," Cera said with a raised brow.

"I will not speak of this without Hermione's wards," he said.

"Hermione!" Robb exclaimed, "She is the granddaughter of Aery's Targaryen, she could be-"

"She is also the daughter of Tyrion Lannister, cousin the Joffrey, they will not follow her."

Robb slumped in his seat, defeated, and then gave him a small smile.

"At least mother will be happy to see you," he murmured.

"You cannot let your mother know I'm alive," Ned said gravely, "She took Tyrion Lannister hostage and started these events, I cannot trust her with this. Only you two shall know who I really am."

Hermione was losing her patience. One month, it had now been one month since Lord Starks execution had Hermione had yet to be left alone with Sansa for even a moment. Joffrey will ruthless with the girl and anyone could see a part of her dying the longer she remained in the capital.

Her father was trying to control the people of the city, he was also trying to control Joffrey but it seemed that the boy was of the mentality that he held all the power. Despite her plan to go back to Robb and 'hold the north' Joffrey refused to let her leave.

"I need you here cousin," he had said, "And haven't you missed your father?"

Of course, she missed her father, but they both knew that more important things came first. Tyrion was trying to think up a way to get her and Sansa out of the city, but with the number of spies and cutthroats around every corner, they had to be careful. Joffrey was becoming more crazed as the days went on, ordering the deaths of dozens of children's, all because they were accused of being Robert Baratheon's bastards.

"Lady Lannister, your presence is required in the Throne Room," Sir Meryn Trant called out to her. Hermione sighed and stood from her place on the stone bench to follow the armoured man. She had been sitting in the gardens, reading when he had come to fetch her. Eyes followed them as they made their way to the throne room where Joffrey sat with a smug grin on his face.

"Cousin," he greeted, "Now that you're here we can begin."

Hermione frowned in confusion, the members of the small council were here, her father and the Queen Reagent included. Meryn Trant left her side only to stand beside Sansa Stark. She looked at her father who concealed his own confusion beneath a cool façade. Cersei was not so trained, her frown marred her features, wrinkling the skin above her brows. The only one who seemed to know what was going on was maester Pycelle who looked upon her with a small smile.

"Your grace," she greeted with a tight smile, "To what do I owe the pleasure of being summoned before you?"

"I have a problem that needs immediate attention," he started, "And I believe you are the key to helping me solve it."

"What can I do to help?" Hermione asked with fake concern.

"The problem is being that Lady Sansa is the daughter of a traitor and the gods see it unfit to allow our King to be tied down by such a burden," Maester Pycelle announced.

"She is innocent-"

"But a traitors daughter none the less," The old man interrupted, "Therefore it has been decided by the gods that our good King Joffrey shall not marry Sansa Stark."

"If you have already decided then what are we doing here?" Lord Varys spoke up.

"I need a new bride," Joffrey said, his eyes never leaving Hermione's form. Her palms began to sweat but she saw Sansa's shoulders sag ever so slightly from relief, she was not to be wed to the boy who killed her father.

"What about Margery Tyrell?" Varys suggested.

"Married to Renly Baratheon," Lord Baelish replied, "Surely your spies knew that already."

"Elia Mertell then?"

"I will not have my son married to some Dornish whore," Cersei snapped.

"Well then, there are no other ladies in the realm who are suitable. They are either allied with our enemies, too old or young, barren or married already."

"There is one more," Joffrey interrupted, "My dear Lady Hermione Lannister. I can think of no other that I would like as my queen."

"Your grace she is your cousin," Lord Vary's pipped up.

"Cousins marry all the time in the realm," he replied simply, "If she were my sister it would be different but the only blood we share is that of a grandfather, correct me if I am wrong but that is seen as normal in the gods eyes."

"Well yes, I suppose so," he muttered in return.

The wind had been knocked out of Hermione as Tyrion tried to speak on her behalf.

"She is already promised to another," he said, "Your father-"

"Is dead," Joffrey cut in with a cruel smirk, "And I would not have my lovely cousin married to my enemy. I would not dishonour her so."

Tyrion looked as lost as Hermione felt as she plastered another fake smile on her face.

"You honour me your grace," she said quietly with a curtsey, "If you would excuse me, I feel a little flustered, I think I need to go lay down."

"Of course, my Lady," he agreed. She quickly turned and made her way back to her chambers, her feet guiding her while her mind was preoccupied. Thoughts ran through her mind, a million miles a minute. She threw open the doors to her room and grabbed her small travel bag, throwing things in in a flurry of movement.

"Can you fit Lady Sansa in there?" her father called from the doorway. Hermione continued to move around packing all her items into the small bag. It was one of her infamous 'never ending' bags that her father loved, he even had one of his own.

"If it comes to that then yes," she said quickly.

"So, you're just going to disappear, just like that?" he asked.

"I would take you and Sansa with me," Hermione countered.

"Think this through my dear-"

"I can't," she snapped, "If I think about it then I'll come up with a political reason why I should stay. I'm sick of thinking father. I want to get Sansa and go to Robb, I want to be his wife and I just want to live our lives in peace."

"I know," he said gently as he shut her door and approached her. She let out a small sob and sat down on the stone floor, her back against her bed. Her father sat beside her and grabbed her hand.

"You know I would never let him have you, you know that don't you?"

"I know."

"And you also know this war isn't going to stop. They are calling it the War of Five Kings; it won't be over until there is only one left."

"Or none," she whispered.

"Or none," he agreed, "I cannot go with you and if you leave willingly then there is every chance they will come after me. When you leave, make it look like you were kidnapped by some Stark infiltrators, caught in the crossfire of the rescue of Lady Sansa."

"I can do that," Hermione whispered, "I'm assuming your staying because of Shae?"

"That's part of the reason, yes. Does that bother you?" he asked worriedly.

"Not at all, I'm glad you have found love again," she smiled.

"Thank you," he whispered, "The other reason I cannot leave is because I am all that's keeping Joffrey on some sort of a leash. It's not a very good one but its better than anything anyone else here has managed to do."

"You won't see me get married," whispered as a lone tear stained her cheek.

"I may not be walking you down to your husband to be, but I will always be with you," he assured her. Hermione sunk into his embrace, silent tears now streaking down her face in resignation. There wouldn't be peace for a long time. She would allow herself this moment to be weak and then she would go to war.

"Lady Lannister," Sansa greeted from her perch at her vanity. Hermione had finally been able to push her way into Sansa's chambers, using her status as Joffrey's bride to her advantage. Sansa was surprised and avoided eye contact, unsure of what to make of the blonde.

"You never called me," Hermione whispered as she stood behind the girl, "Why?"

"I don't trust you," Sansa replied quietly. Hermione gritted her teeth and grabbed Sansa's shoulder, pulling the girl to her feet and looking up into her eyes. Her eyes. The same Tully blue as her brothers.

"We are leaving," Hermione ground out, "Grab anything important to you and let's go."

"The guards-"

"Don't worry about the guards, just get your things, put them in here and let's go," she insisted. Sansa didn't move, just starred at Hermione suspiciously.

"Oh seven hells," she huffed, "Fine, have it your way."

Hermione opened the doors to Sansa's chambers and raised her hand, sending both guards flying into the opposite wall, knocking them unconscious. She heard Sansa gasp in fright behind her but she had no time to worry about that now. She focused her magic to mess up the room a little, enough to give signs of a struggle. Wincing as she pulled a knife across her palm, she let the blood drip onto the floor where it would be seen immediately.

"What are you doing?" Sansa asked shakily. Hermione cleaned off her hand and grabbed the trembling girl's wrist.

"Don't let go."

When the guards awoke, they found the door hanging from its hinges, the room askew and blood staining the stones beneath their feet, neither girl to be seen. You could hear the King's screaming and cursing from Flea Bottom, demanding they be found at once. Search parties ripped apart the streets attempting to find them and their kidnappers.

"They dare to steal form the King," Joffrey growled, "Bring me their heads! Hound! Be useful and see if they have already left the city. Bring back my Queen!"

"What are you?" Sansa cried as they reappeared somewhere between Riverrun and Casterly Rock. She had chosen a small Inn in a nameless town that her father had brought her too on more than one occasion growing up. She reached into her bag and thrust a black cloak in the younger girl's direction.

"Put this on," she commanded, "Unless you want to be taken back to King's Landing?"

"Well where are you taking me?"

She was growing a backbone, Hermione was pleased, she would need it in the years to come.

"To your brother," she replied quietly.

"I have three brothers," Sansa retorted as she fastened the cloak around her shoulders.

"Just stay here, please," she asked the girl with pleading eyes. Sansa stood silent for a moment before nodding her head.

Hermione sighed in relief, pulling her own hood above her head and making her way into the inn. It was bustling with people, men getting drunk, women being grabbed inappropriately and horrible off-key singing bouncing off the walls. She scanned the crowd, looking for someone who may have a horse she could buy.

She was about to give up when she saw him in the corner of the room, shrouded by shadows. His dark hair was long, hanging around his shoulders as his emerald green eyes starred into his ale. He was clad in black and possibly only a few years older than herself.

He must have felt her looking at him for when he lifted his eyes to look at her, she felt a rush of emotion. Even without his glasses, there was no mistaking the man starring back at her.

"Harry."


	15. Chapter 14

Okay, so I got some on you by adding Harry freaking Potter into the story. A couple of things, no he isn't going to be a main character, no he isn't going to have magic and no he will not remember ever being Harry Potter. It's like Mrs Granger not being Catelyn Stark and Tonks not being Osha.

I do realise it's a huge gamble adding him to the story, but I have a clear vision for him and his purpose in this story.

I do need to warn you though.

THERE IS SEX IN THIS CHAPTER!

If you are not comfortable with this please skip forward. You may even have a giggle since I have never written a sex scene before, so it may actually just be entertaining for you!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter or Game of Thrones

**Chapter** **14**

"Harry," she whispered. Her feet moved on their own accord, taking her to his lonely table in the corner. He watched her approach, suspicion in his gaze.

"Can I help you?" he asked with a frown.

"Possibly," she replied sitting across from him, "You wouldn't happen to have a horse for sale?"

"I need my horse to get to the Wall," he said dryly.

"Are you a man of the Night's Watch?" she asked with a frown.

"Aye, or I will be anyway," he answered, "No other place in the world for bastards than at the Wall."

Hermione didn't know what to say for a moment. Her best friend from her previous life was sitting here in front of her, telling her he was bound for a life at the Wall. Hadn't he been dealt enough punishment as Harry Potter?

"Would you work for me instead?" she asked, "I'm in need of an escort to Robb Starks camp."

"Why?" he asked simply.

"Because my name is Hermione Lannister and I am to be his wife," she replied. The rational part of her mind said that this wasn't her Harry, just like she wasn't truly Hermione Granger anymore but the emotion of seeing him again overrode her rationality, "I also need to return his sister to him."

"You're serious?" he asked after a moment, "Why would you tell me this?"

"I just have a feeling," was all she could say, "You seem like a good man."

"You don't even know me," he said, looking at her as if she had suddenly sprouted another head.

"Tell me your name then," she smiled.

"Uh…Daniel," he replied, "Daniel Waters."

"Well Daniel Waters, are you any good with a sword?" she asked.

"I'm decent," he said with a raised brow and a modest expression.

"How would you like me be my sword shield?"

He looked shocked by her proposal, reeling back in his seat slightly.

"I'm a bastard," he said, "I cannot be-"

"I don't care if you are a bastard," she snapped, "You are a man who can swing a sword that I have chosen to trust. Do you accept or will you continue to the Wall?"

"And what would King Robb think of a bastard protecting his Lady?" he asked with a glare.

"You leave Robb to me," she replied simply, "Now, do you accept?"

He contemplated the small woman's words for a moment before sighing.

"Better than living the life in the coldest part of the realm surrounded by nothing but criminals," he said, "His army is about a half a day's ride from here, they passed through not long ago, they are headed for Casterly Rock."

"Perfect, let's go."

"I have one horse My Lady," he reminded her, "So unless you want to be delayed by walking on foot, I suggest we get another horse."

Hermione felt her face flush slightly as she followed him out of the Inn, of course three people wouldn't fit on one bloody horse. She grabbed Sansa on the way making rushed introductions. They reached the stables where Daniels black horse was waiting for him. Daniel tacked him quickly and looked around at the other horses.

"We'll take that one too," he said pointing to a dark chestnut across the way.

"But that's not ours," Sansa said.

"I'll leave them some gold," Hermione assured her.

"Who is the better rider between you?" he asked as he started to tack the other horse.

"Me," Hermione said.

"Right then," he grunted, pulling the saddle strap tight, "You ride Prongs there and I'll take Lady Stark on this one."

"Prongs?" Sansa asked with a frown, "What sort of name is that for a horse."

"It's what my mother called my father," he muttered, "It stuck when she died."

"Prongs," Hermione whispered, flashbacks of a silvery stag racing through her mind, "You father was a stag. You're one of Robert Baratheon's bastards."

"Which is why I was headed for the wall," he answered shortly, "Or didn't you hear that we are already being hunted by your cousin."

Hermione had nothing to say, what could she say? He definitely had the brooding, short temper that Harry had, she wondered if he carried any of his other traits, hopefully he didn't still have a hero complex.

"Up you go," Daniel huffed as he lifted Sansa up onto the chestnut horse. He jumped up behind her and clasped the reins in his hands.

"You coming or not?" he asked. Hermione shook herself from her thoughts and mounted Prongs, following behind Daniel as they exited the stables and started on their way to the Stark camp.

Just as Daniel predicted, it took them half a day to arrive. They had left under the cover of night, so by the time they arrived the first light of day was beginning to shine through the trees. Men surrounded them quickly, all trying to shout over one another. Behind them Hermione could see hundreds, if not thousands of bodies laying dead in the fields.

The wounded were being treated by the silent sisters while prisoners were carted off and the able-bodied men looted the bodies of the dead.

"I demand to see your King," she shouted over them. They all looked at her and their shouting died down only to give way to laughter.

"And who are you to order us around and demand an audience with the King in the North?"

Hermione lowered her hood and immediately the men drew their swords. The horses backed up, nervousness filling their beings as light rain started to fall around them.

"Tell us why you we shouldn't cut you down right here and now Lannister," one of them shouted.

"Because I am to be Lord Starks wife, your Queen, and I have brought his sister with me," she replied calmly.

"Please take us to my brother," Sansa called to them, lowering her own hood. Her blue eyes were tired but eager to see her brother, to finally me in the arms of her family again.

"Lady Sansa," they gasped in shock. They bowed to her and immediately started to escort them down the hills. Sansa's eyes filled with tears as she gazed upon the countless bodies that littered the terrain. She couldn't stand the gore but she also couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight.

Hermione couldn't stand it anymore when she heard a man fighting against two silent sisters who were trying to save his life by taking away his rotten foot.

"Please it doesn't even hurt," he cried. Hermione quickly dismounted and rushed over to help them. She dropped to her knees, pulling a vial from her bag.

"I need you to drink this," she said as he continued to try and push the other ladies away, "It will numb the pain."

"I don't want to be a cripple," he pleaded with them. Sansa watched them, silently crying at the man's pain but remaining strong, never looking away once. Hermione pushed the man with all her strength so he way laying on his back. She held him there for a few second, forcing the vial between his lips. She covered his mouth with her hand making sure he swallowed the potion. His eyes glazed over and his struggling ceased.

"What did you do to him?" one of them asked as they started to saw through his leg.

"I gave him a potion to numb his pain and sedate him," she answered quietly. The woman grunted at her, neither appreciative nor disapproving.

"Robb," Sansa shouted as she saw her brother approaching them. Hermione turned as Sansa bolted past her and into her brothers awaiting arms. He embraced her tightly, never wanting to let her go. Her tears were coming full force now as she sobbed into her brother's chest. Robb looked over her shoulder and saw Hermione standing above the silent sisters with a warm smile on her face.

Sansa pulled back from him as the other Lords approached. They welcomed her back enthusiastically and Sansa was surprised to see Jory Cassel amongst them, limping with a cane and an eye patch over one of his eyes.

"Jory," she gasped. She embraced the older man who buried his face into her hair, squeezing her back just as tight.

"I'm sorry," he said as she pulled back.

"I thought you were dead," she admitted wiping away her tears.

"So did I," was all he said. Hermione watched the reunion with a smile before she felt cold steel against her throat.

"What are you doing here Lannister?" Great Jon Umber said as he held his sword against her throat.

"Lord Umber," Robb called to him, "You are threatening your future queen. Put your sword down."

"She is one of them your grace," he called back, "It would be foolish not to kill her right here and now, we don't need two Lannister prisoners."

"Put your sword down father or I will gut you like a fish," a female voice snarled from behind them. It was a tense few moments before the sword was moved away from Hermione's neck freeing her. She turned and saw Cera standing with her own sword against her father's neck, glaring at him with nothing but hatred in her eyes.

"I may be a Lannister my Lord but I am not one of them," she spat, "I would never do the things they have done."

Cera removed her sword and shoved past her father coming to stand by Hermione's side. She gave the warrior woman an appreciative smile before turning back to Robb. They starred at each other for a moment before closing the distance and embracing each other. They forgot the carnage surrounding them as they breathed in each other's scents even though Robb did smell like blood and sweat.

"Thank you," he whispered into her hair before calling to his men, "Hurry and get the tents up, there will be a wedding tonight!"

"What- Robb are you sure?" Hermione asked with wide eyes.

"Please do not make me wait another moment Hermione. I fear that battle would be the one to kill me," he jested.

"Well I can't be the one responsibly for killing the King in the North, now can I?" she grinned.

The men cheered and renewed their efforts into cleaning up the battlefield and making camp. Cera and Daniel stayed by Hermione's side after their quick introduction, Cera quickly bonding with a fellow bastard and deciding to take him under her wing and show him the ropes. Sansa had been ushered away by some handmaidens while Hermione continued to tend to the wounded on both sides. Robb had been confused but she had simply stated that she would not refuse a man's cries just because they fought on opposite sides.

She worked well into the afternoon, the sun had just begun to set, and was only pulled away when a Stark solider was sent to deliver her to her tent. Cera and Daniel stood guard at her door while Sansa helped Hermione prepare for her wedding. She wasn't the excitable girl she had been in Winterfell all those months ago but she was still happy.

"I'm sorry I didn't trust you," she said softly.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Hermione smiled at her as Sansa brushed her hair.

"That day, you said you didn't let my father die," Sansa said after a moment, "What did you mean by that?"

"You have to swear not to tell anyone, not your mother, no one," Hermione replied seriously. Sansa nodded her head quickly as Hermione turned to face her.

"You now know I can do magic. I used my magic in King's Landing to swap and disguise your father and Jory Cassel."

"So, Jory," she trailed off, "Jory isn't Jory?"

"No," Hermione whispered. Sansa let out a single sob as she launched herself at the older girl.

"Thank you."

Hermione gave her a warm embrace before the red head pulled back so she could dress. It had been commissioned in secret while she was in King's Landing by a seamstress who has loyal to her. It was also the first items she packed away in her bag.

Translucent lace sleeves adorned her arms where they met the modest neckline of her bodice. The neck of her gown revealed over her shoulders to reveal the smooth flesh of her back. The lace travelled down the bodice and over her skirts.

"You look beautiful," Sansa complimented as she latched a white cloak around her shoulders.

"Thank you, I thought it a bit delicate at first but the lady that commissioned it said she didn't believe I would get married in the north and therefore refused to make it a northern fitting dress," Hermione let out a nervous laugh as she fisted her skirts.

"He loved you even before I left Winterfell you know," Sansa said softly, "It was a shame we couldn't have the wedding there in the Godswood."

Hermione smiled sadly, yes, it was a shame, but she would marry Robb in a pig's sty if that's what it took to finally be his.

"Sansa," Hermione called after a moment, "Do you still have the bracelet that I made you?"

"Yes," she confirmed softly.

"Should you ever need me, ever, call my name and I will be there," she told the girl.

"I will," she promised.

"Your father called me once with his," Hermione mentioned casually.

"When he was arrested?"

"No, he called me while on the King's Road. Tasked me with delivering something precious to your brother, Jon, at the Wall. Said Jon would protect her until it was time for you to reunite."

"Her?" Sansa asked before her eyes widened in disbelief, "Lady? You mean Lady?"

The red head locked Hermione in another tight hug, repeating her thanks over and over again.

"You have been so good to us," she said before a low growl interrupted them.

"Grey Wind," Hermione smiled upon seeing the gigantic wolf at the entrance to her tent, "You've gotten so big!"

"I think this means it's time for me to go," Sansa commented as she wiped away all traces of the tears she had shed. The girl left, following after her brother's wolf. Hermione breathed in deeply, sure that she would be collected soon when she heard her uncles obnoxious voice.

"Oh look a fancy tent, it couldn't very well be for me coul-"

He stopped short as he was shoved inside and saw his niece in her white gown. He had been scrubbed clean and been given a fresh set of clothes to wear, nice ones too, though his wrists were still cast in iron. His Lannister green eyes widened at her appearance and then he growled.

"No."

"Hello uncle," Hermione replied coolly. She looked up this man, a man she had looked up to her whole life, the one who played with her and taught her the basics of swordsmanship and fighting so that she could defend herself and the man who pushed Bran Stark out of a window because he was caught fucking his twin sister.

"I will not give you away to that boy king."

"Is that why they brought you here?" Hermione asked with a raised brow, "I wouldn't think it proper for a future Queen to be given away by her child killing uncle."

"I didn't kill him," Jamie retorted.

"No, because I saved him," Hermione snapped, "You have been called many things uncle, Oathbreaker and Kingslayer but I never thought less of you. I didn't think anything you did could make me think less of you, but then you had to go and push Bran Stark from a window."

"Hermione please you have to underst-"

"I understand," she said with pursed lips, "I understand that you were caught fucking your sister, that my cousins are all your children. Would you believe me if I said I never cared that you slept with your sister? Sure, I find it strange and not quite natural but I never cared. The moment you tried to kill someone for it, however, I started to care because the man I thought you were had been shattered into a million pieces."

"I'm sorry," he whispered. He loved his niece, how could he not. She was the light of House Lannister, better than any of them could ever dream of being. Tears pricked her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

"Joffrey want's me as his queen, I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, though it's not so bad in his case," she commented. Jamie's eyes widened, his niece could not marry Joffrey, he would destroy her.

"So, you see uncle, if it weren't for Robb and his family, I'd be at the mercy of the other boy king. If there was no war, tell me and tell me true, who would you rather give me away to?"

His silence was the only answer she needed; he knew his son was a cruel little child. He was blasphemous, not blind.

"Are you ready to go My Lady?" Daniel called from the outside of the tent. Hermione looked at her uncle with a sad expression.

"Will you afford me this one night of happiness?" she asked softly. Jamie starred her down for a long moment before his shoulders slumped and he held his elbow out to her. Hermione gave him a small smile, allowing herself to think of him as just her uncle for tonight. As they exited the tent, Daniel and Cera flanked their sides. She was escorted down to the edge of the woods where a crowd of people formed and split down the middle.

Torches lit their way, guiding them to Robb who stood clad in his Stark greys. His crown lay on his head, resembling the illustrations of the crown that the old King's of the North wore. His blue eyes starred at her, his grin threatening to split his face in two. 'Jory Cassel' stood in place of where the groom's father would usually officiate the wedding. Only few knew that it was really Ned Stark marrying off his son and heir. Others believed that Jory was given the honour because of his efforts in the capital in trying to save their liege Lord.

"Who comes before the old gods this night?" the older man called out. Hermione felt Jamie stiffen even further beside her but he kept his features cool and calm for the sake of his niece.

"Hermione of the House Lannister, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. Who comes to claim her?"

How Jamie knew the marriage vows and customs of the north and the Old Gods were beyond her. Robb stepped forward, not even glancing at his prisoner.

"Robb of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and King in the North. Who gives her?"

"Jamie of House Lannister, her uncle," Jamie replied after a moment's hesitation.

"Lady Hermione, will you take this man?"

"I take this man," she said breathlessly, looking into Robb Starks eyes. Jamie let his arm drop as she stepped forward to lock her hands in Robbs.

"In the site of the Old Gods, I now pronounce you Lady Hermione Stark of Winterfell, Queen in the North."

Robb cupped her cheek in his hand as he leaned down to seal her lips with his own. Cheers and clapping sounded around them as they lost themselves in each other's touch.

"Time for the feast," Robb whispered as he pulled away. She locked eyes with her uncle as he was taken back to his cage. His eyes shone with so many emotions that Hermione almost felt like protesting his leave. He looked at her with love, pride, regret and guilt. Hermione took a deep breath, reminding herself that he was a prisoner and that tonight she would be selfish, she would be happy.

The feast was as grand as it could be while in a war camp. Soldiers drank and sang and cheered for their new rulers. The Lords held their liquor a little better as the feasted around the newlyweds. Hermione's face was getting sore from smiling so much and making conversation with any and all who approached them to offer their congratulations.

She had been given a crown of her own, a smaller rendition of Robb's own. It felt heavy on her head, both physically and metaphorically.

"Let us retire for the night," Robb grinned as he helped Hermione to her feet. They bid the Lords goodnight and were escorted back to their tent by Grey Wind who sat down at the entrance to their tent, growling at any who dared to get too close.

Robb gazed upon his wife as she stood nervously in the centre of their tent. Wife. Theirs. It sounded so right. Her golden hair glowed in the fire's light, her crown glinting from its place upon her head. She looked so small in her delicate lace dress. She turned to look at him with her chocolate brown eyes full of nervousness and affection.

"I must be the luckiest man in the realm," he whispered.

"And I, the luckiest woman," she replied with red stained cheeks. His heart was beating hard in his chest for what was to come, the heat building up inside of him just by the thought of it. He ran his hands along her arms and up to her shoulders in a reassuring gesture.

"We don't have to do this tonight," he told her.

"But I want to," she admitted softly. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing their lips together in a soft but heated kiss. He kissed her back increasing the intensity until they had to pull back to catch their breath. Fire raged in Hermione gaze as she practically ripped Robb's leather tunic from his body.

She stood back, starring at his exposed torso appreciatively. Her nerves seemed to have decapitated, replaced by lust and hunger. The muscles in his chest and along his arms rippled with each breath he took; he had certainly gotten stronger from the war. A few scars were scattered along his skin but Hermione paid them no mind.

She was overheating in her dress; she couldn't stand being confined to it any longer. She looked at Robb as she lowered the sleeves of the dress to free her arms. Their breathing was shallow and laboured but neither dared to break their connection. Robb's breath hitched when Hermione shed her bodice and skirts, her breast heaving with need.

This sock strained against his breeches as he gazed at the woman in front of him, exposed and bare. Her skin was ever so slightly freckled, her pink nipples pert and hard and just begging to be touched. Her chest gave way to a narrow waist and curved hips, her toned legs holding up the beauty in front of him.

"Seven hells," he gasped, "I have certainly perished in battle and have made it to the other side."

"I assure you, your grace, that I am very much real and you are very much alive," she smirked, "Would you like to come and see just how real I am."

It was all the invitation he needed. He descended upon her, pulling her hips against him, grounding his cock against her stomach and devouring her lips. Her small moans and mewls excited him beyond words as he lay her down on the furs covering their bed. He started to let his hands wander, lightly brushing her stomach before coming up to cup one of her breasts.

"Robb," she begged quietly. He kicked off his breeches, making quick work of the tie holding them up, never once breaking their kiss. Her small hands roamed his body, caressing his back, his shoulders, his chest and his stomach.

"Good gods," he groaned as she grasped his manhood in her hand. His arousal was hard as steel in her grasp, veins throbbing and pulsating with need. He kissed his way down her neck and to her breasts, taking one hard nub into his mouth, suckling and nipping the sensitive flesh. Her gasps of pleasure threated to undo him but he breathed deeply, his control staying strong.

"Please."

He slid one hand down her stomach and into the soft folds of her centre. She was soaked and sensitive. She let out a small squeal when he brushed over her most sensitive spot. He quietened her cries with another searing kiss as he circled her clit with his fingers. Her hips rocked against his hand, urging him to enter her. He complied and allowed one finger to enter her tight channel.

"Hermione," he grunted as her walls contracted around his finger, "Gods your tight."

She couldn't form words, the pleasure was too much, her brain was foggy and stuck in a lust filled haze. All she could do was whimper and rock her hips harder, looking to be filled. He inserted two more fingers, stretching her, trying to ease her womanhood in preparation for his cock. He pumped them in and out of her, his thrusts gentle and pleasurable. She had only ever had one other man's fingers inside of her, or well, Hermione Granger did.

She thought maybe the memories would ruin any sort of sexual act that she participated in, in this life, but it didn't. It was a far-off memory from another life from a crazed criminal. This was her husband, Robb, and he was the furthest thing from Fenrir Greyback as one could get.

She gripped his cock in her hand, pumping in time with the thrust of his fingers. A thin layer of sweat coated their bodies as their breaths came out in ragged huffs. Robb curled his fingers inside of her and the fire building inside her built to new heights.

He was learning her body, he was learning where to touch her, how to touch her and with the curl of his fingers he watched her nearly come undone. Her small shriek and short convulsion was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. Her hand went slack around his shaft and moved to grip the furs beneath her. He pumped faster, curling his fingers in that same spot every time, stroking something inside of her.

In seconds she was screaming his name, her walls clamping around his digits like an iron vice. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as her chest arched off the bed. He watched her come undone for him with stormy blue eyes. He let her ride out her orgasm for a minute before pulling his hand away from her womanhood, replacing it with his cock.

"Are you ready?" he asked her softly. She breathed deeply, looking up at him with such love and trust that it tugged at his heart. She nodded and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck. He slowly pushed the head of his penis inside her. She gasped as he entered her inch by inch, breaking through her maidenhead quickly and settling himself deep inside her. He lay there still, for a moment as he let her get used to his size.

Her hips started to move against him, begging for him to move inside her. Her arms hands moved to grasp his curls and fist the furs, her legs coming to wrap around his waist, forcing him deeper inside. He started off slow, listening to the sounds of pleasure escaping her lips. Her hips met his at every thrust urging him to go harder, father, deeper.

The heat was building to uncontrollable levels, and Robb felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge. His thrusts became more desperate, more hurried as he felt the threads of control begin to snap. The woman below him was coming undone again, her eyes slipping into the back of her head and a scream building up in her throat.

Her walls clamped down around his cock as she fell apart beneath him and that was all it took to send him off the edge. He gasped her name as he thrust into her one last time, emptying his seed deep within her. Her walls milked him for all they were worth until he slowly pulled out and collapsed beside her.

"My Queen," he huffed as he tried to catch his breath, a stupid smile on his face. Hermione dropped her head to the side to look at him, her golden curls mused and knotted from their lovemaking. He pulled the furs up over them and pulled her closer to him, his exhaustion starting to get the better of him.

"My King," she whispered as she buried her face in his chest, breathing in his scent and allowing the low thud of his heartbeat to lull her into sleep.


	16. Chapter 15

Hi everyone! I have been quiet for a few days now, my apologies, I have been quite unwell and haven't been able to focus. I'll be updating a lot more regularly now; I used my sick time to re-watch seasons 2 and 3 and have reworked some plot points to suit my benefit.

Can I just say the shows timeline confuses the heck out of me. Some events look like they happen the same day as another event but then someone says a long period (like 6 months) has passed and I sit here thinking 'what the actual fuck?'.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter or Game of Thrones

**Chapter 15**

They were awarded a week of relative marital bliss as they marched closer towards Hermione's childhood home. The men were coming around, no longer referring to her as 'a Lannister'. Hermione had used that week to gather information about the current events that had been happening around camp and settling herself into Robb's life as his Queen.

Queen. The concept was still foreign to her. She had grown up a noble Lady, taught many things but believing the bottom line for her would be to marry into another noble family to strike alliances and tie houses together. A simple pawn. She never even thought of being in the position of royalty but here she was, Queen in the North.

She stayed away from Robb's war strategy meetings of her own accord; she didn't want the men thinking she was coming into their camp simply to spy. Any battle they fought, she continued to help the men on both sides, trying to save as many lives and limbs as possible. The silent sisters were grateful for her help and respected her decision to help any man in need. The collection of potions she had concocted over the last few years were quickly dwindling as more and more people came to her injured.

"You are the Mother brought to life," one of the men had told her in his groggy state.

"The Mother?" she asked. She knew who the mother was of course, she had been brought up with the religion of the Seven.

"Protecting all the realms children," he had muttered before giving way to unconsciousness.

A few of the men had heard the bazaar conversation and spread it around the Stark camp. Her cheeks flushed every time she heard it. She wasn't deserving of such praise, she did as much as any of the silent sisters, she just made more powerful healing potions and had magic on her side was all.

Speaking of mothers, she had quickly noticed the absence of Catelyn Stark when she had arrived but waited to ask Robb until the morning after their wedding. He had sent her to treat with Renly Baratheon, a smart choice Hermione had thought. He was loved more than Stannis and had the backing of Highgarden and the Tyrells; he had even married their daughter Margery.

On day four they had their first fight. She had found out that Robb had sent Theon to go and treat with his father in Pyke, to gain his fleet of ships.

"His father rebelled against yours. He was taken prisoner and held hostage by your house for years-"

"He was raised with honour. He was my brother in all but blood!"

"But still a prisoner," Hermione said with narrowed eyes, "He was raised well, treated with respect and love but he was still a prisoner."

Ned had entered then and although perturbed, tried to reassure her that Theon was loyal and would never betray them.

"The things we do for love," she had whispered, bringing the conversation to a close.

Sansa had reunited with her father properly, though in secret. He held her for what seemed like hours, never wanting to let her go. Hermione had tried to locate Arya using a drop of Ned's blood on a map of Westeros but it never worked. She had tried using Robb and Sansa's as well when it failed, they had volunteered, but the same result presented itself, a burning hole through the parchment.

One week of marital bliss they had been awarded and it all fell apart the morning of Catelyn Starks return.

They had been up late the night before, Hermione and Robb, making love to the early hours of the morning. They had fallen asleep, wrapped in each other's warm embrace but Robb had soon left when the sun rose, war didn't stop just because he wanted to sleep. He left his wife laying beneath the furs on their bed, Grey Wind taking up occupancy on his side to curl around her.

Hermione walked through the woods, mist and fog obscuring the ground from view. The sky was grey, a red comet shining above and the air was cold, light rain falling around her. The trees were familiar, she had been here before. She continued on her trek, the trees thinning out to a clearing that held a small pond and an ancient white tree.

The Weirwood tree in Winterfell. She frowned in confusion and slowly approached the red, tear-stained face etched into the bark. Red leaves littered the ground, falling beneath the layer of fog. She knelt down to level her face with that of the crying face in the tree, the red sap that created the river of tears was flowing heavily.

She reached her hand out to caress the face, hurt and desperation building up inside of her. As her hand connected with the sap a cry echoed in her mind.

"Bran?" she whispered, hearing the boy crying, pleading for someone to stop.

'I'll do anything!' he shouted. His sudden final scream filled her ears and Hermione shot to her feet, turning in fright when a hand firmly grasped her shoulder. Behind her stood a woman. She was pale, dark hair and eyes, she looked very familiar.

"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell," she said. Hermione knew the saying; she had heard it more than once. Screams and sounds of clashing steel filled her ears as the woman held onto her tighter.

"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell," she repeated, more desperate now. Hermione's breath was coming out in quick, short bursts. Something was wrong, something was very wrong. The woman grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her along, towards the castle's courtyard. They stood in the corner, the villagers looking scared and defeated.

Men, no more than 20, clad in armour were spread around them, their swords glinting threateningly, daring the villagers to fight back. They didn't. Hermione glanced to the front of the crowd where Theon Greyjoy stood to address the people. She couldn't hear what he was saying, all she heard were the now quiet screams in the distance.

"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell," the woman said softly, looking upon the scene with such sadness. Hermione turned back to face Theon just as two ropes pulled, hoisting up an image that would haunt Hermione for the rest of her life. Before her were the burned and decimated bodies of two boys, no older than six and ten.

Her horrified screams drowned out any other sound that had been present. She tried to run to them but her feet were stuck in place, immobilising her. Tears streamed down her face as she wrestled with the invisible force keeping her grounded, even as it started to shake.

"Hermione," a voice growled followed by a sharp sting to her cheek. Hermione's eyes flew open, darting around the room in a panic. Realising where she was and that she was now surrounded by people she grabbed the furs and stumbled out of bed.

"Did you have to slap her?" she heard Daniel as Cera quietly as she wrenched open the lid to her clothing chest. She grabbed the first thing she could find, the voices fading to nothing but white noise. Robb followed her, trying to calm her down and get her to talk but her glassy eyes never wavered of blinked as she pulled her head through her gown. One she was dressed, albeit messily, she rushed around the room picking up items and muttering to herself.

"Hermione, stop!" Robb shouted as he gasped her forearms tightly. She gasped and snapped to attention clanking around the room to the shocked and worried faces. Cera, Daniel, Ned, Sansa and Lady Stark all stood around her and Robb with mixed expressions.

"Hermione," Robb called softly, "You were having a nightmare-"

"Not a nightmare," she insisted quickly, "A vision. Of Winterfell."

Everyone stepped forward with wide eyes, all but Catelyn Stark who looked at the girl suspiciously.

"What did you see?" Ned asked.

"The Weirwood tree, it was crying," she started, "I heard Bran, he was crying and screaming and pleading for someone to stop. A woman appeared and said 'there must always be a Stark in Winterfell'. Then she took me to the courtyard. Theon. Theon was there, dressed in Ironborn armour with men threatening the villagers. He…he pulled a rope and…two bodies were lifted into the air."

"Whose bodies?"

"Bran and Rickon I think," she sobbed, "They had been burned. They were nothing more than black husks but the size fits."

"I told you not to trust him," Lady Stark growled at her son. Sansa was leaning into Cera who held her tightly, allowing the young woman to cry into her shoulder.

"You also told me not to trust Hermione and look at our family now," he snapped back.

"And how do you know what she is saying is true?" Daniel asked curiously. Everyone in the room turned to him, just realising he was there.

"Come with me," Cera growled lowly as she passed Sansa to her father. She dragged him out of the tent, intent on filling him in with only the necessities. Catelyn held Sansa against her chest as Robb turned to look back at his wife.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I had forgotten to tell Sansa to keep this from mother so she knows, she knows everything."

"It's okay," Hermione said distractedly. She was fidgeting to continue on her hunt for items but Robb was still holding her in place.

"I must go to Winterfell," he growled, "How can my men expect me to win a war when I can't even hold my own castle."

"You cannot go," Hermione insisted, "If you leave now my grandfather will surely take advantage."

"I have almost all of my family back Hermione, who am I fighting for now? Arya isn't there, we don't know where she is and I can only hope that she finds her way back home."

"Joffrey cannot be allowed to be King," she said, "We can join with Renly and-"

"Renly Baratheon is dead," Catelyn Stark interrupted. Hermione looked at the older woman in disbelief before her shoulders sagged.

"Stannis will not be a good King either," she sighed.

"Then it does not matter whose side we join or if we win this war," Robb sighed angrily, "The realm is fucked either way."

"There is one more king, the rightful king," Ned said softly. Everyone turned to look at him confusion shining in their eyes.

"Hermione," he started, looking up at the girl with the most serious expression she had ever seen, "Can you please give us some privacy?"

Hermione cast her usual wards around the tent and grasped Robb's hand.

"What are you talking about Ned, surely you cannot mean Robb?" Catelyn asked, "There are no more 'kings'. Robert and Renly are dead, Joffrey and Stannis cannot be allowed to rule and the south is no place for a Stark."

"Not Robb," he said with a grimace, "I have not been entirely truthful to you my Lady."

"What are you talking about father?" Sansa pipped up.

"What point are you trying to make here father?" Robb asked firmly. It took Ned a few minutes to compose himself enough to start speaking again.

"Before I tell you, I want an oath from each of you that what I tell you will not leave this room. No one can know until the time is right."

Each of them nodded, the seriousness of the situation not lost on them. Ned steadied his gaze onto his wife who was still clutching her daughter to her chest, her expression confused and wary.

"All those years ago, when I left you to go and fight Robert's war. I came back home with a babe in my arms that wasn't yours," he started.

"What does that have to do with anything," Catelyn spat. Anger filled her gaze as she stared back at her husband, not appreciating he topic of his bastard.

"What your tone mother," Robb warned as he tensed next to his own wife.

"I told you that he was my bastard," Ned continued softly, "I told you his name was Jon Snow. I allowed you to hate a child and paraded him in front of you for years, raising him as I did our trueborn children. I allowed you to bear the brunt of my dishonour."

"Father," Robb chided, seeing the hurt and anger growing in his mother's eyes. It seemed he was getting his first taste of fatherhood, scolding and warning his parents as if they were children.

"I told you he was my bastard, all because I made a promise," Ned confessed, "Because I knew Robert would kill him if his true identity was revealed."

"What are you saying?" Catelyn gaped.

"You brought him back after you fought at the Tower of Joy," Hermione commented, having remembered stories her father had told her of the war.

"Aye," he confirmed with a pained expression. Pieces started to click into place as Hermione ran through the timeline in her mind, taking into account the importance Ned was showing for Jon.

"He wasn't your bastard child," she surmised, "He is the bastard of your sister and Rhaegar Targaryen."

The Starks balked and silence reverberated throughout the room. Catelyn physically stumbled back, letting her arms fall from her daughter's shoulders before sinking to her knees. Sansa gravitated over to her brother, shock registering in her bright blue eyes. Robb took her into his arms, dropping his wife's hand as she stepped forward to look into his father's eyes with a frown.

"No," she started, seeing the torn expression on his face as if trying to speak about it physically hurt him, "Not a bastard at all, is he? He is their trueborn son, the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms. That's what you are trying to tell us isn't it?"

"You cannot be serious father. Jon is our brother," Robb growled.

"Aye, I raised him as your brother," Ned said, "But he is your Aunt Lyanna's child, your cousin."

"He is our brother," Sansa said firmly, shocking everyone in the room. Catelyn looked at her daughter, their matching Tully eyes clashing.

"I never treated him well," Sansa admitted, "I never treated him like a brother but I did love him. He is brave and kind and just, everything a King should be."

Ned smiled at his daughter proudly and appreciatively, it seemed she was finally growing up. Robb shared similar thoughts as he released his hold on his sister who seemed to stand a bit taller, her head held high. Hermione knelt next to her good mother, grasping her shoulder in support.

"It does not matter anyway," Robb sighed, "Jon has taken the black and is beyond the call of Kings and politics."

"But Aemon Targaryen didn't," Ned countered, "And besides, a King can always release a brother of the Nights Watch from their vows."

"Joffrey would slit his own throat before releasing Jon from his vows," Robb retorted with an exasperated sigh.

"The Wall is in the north and Joffrey is not the King in the North," Sansa stared pointedly at her brother, "Or is that trinket on your head just for show."

Robb gaped at his sister for a moment as Hermione stifled a laugh. He gathered his bearings and glared playfully at her.

"The south has made you mouthy little sister," he jested.

"No," she replied with a grim smile, "It made me smarter."

"I will ride for the Wall and speak with Jon, it's time he knew the truth anyway," Ned sighed.

"What if he doesn't want it?" Robb asked quietly.

"Then we may need to concede defeat for if anyone else should sit on the throne, the battles against the north will never stop."

"What about Bran and Rickon," Catelyn pipped up. Ned looked at his wife sadly, she refused to meet his gaze, her expression stony and her lips pursed.

"I need to speak with the other Lords about it," Robb sighed, "I can't expect to send my men back north without them asking questions."

"They will ask questions regardless," Hermione replied, "They will want to know how you know about it when a raven has yet to arrive."

Robb rubbed a hand over his face, stress and tension making him look older than he was.

"I will retake it on my way to the Wall," Ned said.

"And hold it with what men?" Robb countered, "You walk with a cane now father, you cannot fight."

"Don't underestimate me son," Ned warned him.

"I can go," Hermione said, her fury bubbling up to the surface, "No one knows what I can do, perhaps it time they did."

"Not by yourself you're not," Robb growled, "And once again, what men would you hold it with?"

"Surely one of the lords could send some men to hold it, ones who were left up north?" Sansa asked with a thoughtful frown.

"Look at you," Ned smiled, "My little girl helping with war strategies."

The comment was meant to make her smile, to lighten the mood but Sansa just looked at her father flatly.

"I haven't been a little girl since I saw your head separated from your body."

"Someone's coming," Hermione announced, feeling a change in her wards. She released the magic that gave them privacy and soon enough Robb's squire was inside the tent, hands on knees and breathing hard.

"What is it Olyvar?" Robb asked quickly, seeing the boys panicked state.

"A raven from Winterfell your grace," he replied breathlessly. Robb strode over to him and grasped the parchment, reading its contents quickly.

"Father the Lords in the War tent immediately," he commanded. Olyvar scampered away quickly and Robb turned to look at the rest of the room's occupants.

"It seems the issue of knowing about the events at Winterfell has been solved."

"You cannot send men back north your grace. Dividing your forces will be seen as weakness," Lord Umber commented. He stood around the table with the other lords and his king. They had received a raven from Winterfell's maester. Theon Greyjoy had taken the castle and was holding it with a skeleton crew.

"My bastard is stationed at the Dreadfort your grace," Lord Bolton pipped up, "Allow me to send a raven to him, he can take 200 men and take it back from the traitor."

Robb weighed his options. He knew Hermione would probably go on ahead with or without his permission, she was itching to ensure his brothers safety. He wouldn't be surprised if she was already gone, which would both infuriate him and leave him awestruck. He was taking too long to answer; his lords were looking at him expectantly.

"Send word to him, tell him that Winterfell needs to be taken back with no innocent lives taken and Theon Greyjoy is to remain, unharmed for the most part, a prisoner. I wish to take his head myself."

You're going, aren't you?" Robb asked his wife as he entered his tent after lunch. Hermione turned to look at him with desperate eyes.

"I need to, please don't be mad," she pleaded.

"How could I be mad at the woman I love who want's nothing more than to protect and fight for my family," he said softly, grasping her shoulders. She lay her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, trying to get her own to slow.

"I'm taking your father with me," she replied, "He will help me in restoring order until he goes to the Wall, then I will come back to you."

"You had better come back to me, my Queen."

Hermione watched with unbridled amusement as Ned Stark hunched over a bush emptying the contents of his stomach onto the ground below. She had apparated them outside the gates of Winterfell, just behind the trees.

Once he had composed himself, they turned to look at the castle behind them. The once great castle looked worse for wear, not destroyed, but not whole either. Smoke still rose in parts of the castle, ash and snow covered the rooftops and the air smelled of rotting and burned flesh.

"Theon Greyjoy," Ned muttered, "What have you done?"

It was a rhetorical question, obviously, but he didn't know what else to say. They trudged up the muddy path towards the open gates of Winterfell, their hoods up. Hermione had a sense of Déjà vu, seeing the people milling about in fear, iron clad men standing around with their smug grins and swords hanging from their hips.

She heard Ned gasp from beside her when his eyes came upon the two burned bodies of two young boys, still hanging on display for all the people to see. From the corner of her eyes she saw his figure stark to shake, his breaths get louder and harsher and his eyes flare dangerously. He lowered his hood and in one quick motion, yanked off the cuff on his wrist that hid his true identity and shouted.

"Theon!"


	17. Chapter 16

Ok, so...I have gone back and re-read some of the review's you guys have left me and I need to apologise. Ya'll pointed out that my chapters were confusing because I was missing time/scene break indicators.

I have been putting them in my word document so I didn't know they weren't showing up on the website, I'm so sorry!

I'm going to try something new, please let me know if the breaks still aren't appearing please!

I haven't updated in a little while, I'm sorry, I have been stuck in my head a little and my mental health kinda declined. The chapters have been in my head and I've been itching to get it out there but every time I go to type it, I just lose all my energy and motivation. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter or Game of Thrones

**Chapter 16**

"Theon!"

She had never seen Ned Stark lose control. She had seen him angry, furious even, but never fuelled by pure, savage rage and adrenaline. His tears refused to fall as he saw his sons burned corpses displayed like some sick trophy. The cane he now used just to walk was foregone, his leg not keeping him from moving to quickly strike down his enemies.

Hermione focused her magic to shield innocent villagers and blasted any Ironborn across the courtyard who dared to get to close to her. When they drew their swords, they were forced to drop them as the hilt burned too hot, as if it had just come from a forge. Their arrows fell in short or veered off course all together. She was not fighter, despite her uncle Jamie teaching her the basics, she couldn't go up against a trained soldier.

She cursed herself mentally, her magic was only allowing her to keep the men at bay as Lord Stark cut them down, if she had a wand like Hermione Granger, she would be able to fire more targeted and damaging spells. Ned roared as he cut through the throng of Ironborn, severing limbs, slitting throats and impaling bodies.

The townspeople cheered, cried with relief and rallied around their seemingly resurrected Lord.

"Theon! Come out here and face me," Lord Stark thundered. The people mumbled, expressing their hatred and disgust at the cowardly Kraken.

Slow, a small figure emerged into the courtyard, an elderly man held in his grasp, a dagger to his throat. Theon stood, fear and anger written all over his face.

"Let me go or I'll kill him," the young man called out. Lord Stark glared at him, their eyes locked in a fierce battle of strength and fear. Theon was too scared to look away from the ghost of Winterfell's past, he would never see her coming. She slowly slinked through the shadows behind Theon and felt her anger rising as his dagger cut too close to the Maesters throat and drew a thin line of blood.

"You," she called out furiously as the winds started to pick up around her. Theon spun to see her, accidently losing his grip on Maester Luwin who used the time to quickly retreat from the crazed young man. Hermione marched openly towards Theon who couldn't look more terrified if he tried.

Her hair whipped around her head as the wind bellowed around them, lifting up the loose dirt from the trembling ground. People ran for cover, clutching each other as they witnessed the power of their new Lady and Queen. They whispered, said she was sent by the Old Gods to protect them, that she may even be a goddess herself.

"You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!" she shrieked before pulling her fist back and letting it fly into his face. She had a sense of déjà vu as his head snapped back, blood gushing from his nose as Lord Stark came up behind him and forced his arms behind his back, pushing him to his knees.

Tears gathered in her eyes as Lord Stark took over once more. Maester Luwin handed him a set of chains to bind him as Ned announced his crimes.

"Theon Greyjoy of the Iron Isles. You have committed treason. You have betrayed your King, murdered innocent people and burned my boys," Lord Stark choked as tears built in his dark grey eyes, "By the order of Robb Stark, King in the North, you will be remain here in Winterfell as it's prisoner until the end of the war where he will come to decide your fate."

Lord Stark wrenched him to his feet and started to lead him away, whispering dangerously in his ear.

"You thought you were a prisoner before boy, I will show you how a real prisoner is treated."

A few men followed Lord Stark while others moved to discard of the decimated Ironborn forces that littered the yard. Hermione made her way around to each and ever member of the town, doing what she could to provide immediate help and mentally made a list of what she couldn't give them right now.

-BREAK-

Theon had been placed in a cell, one befitting a real prisoner of war. Hermione had erected wards around the cell to prevent him from screaming and crying to be freed.

"My father will hear about this!" he had shouted as they locked him in. The words had struck Hermione with a sense of familiarity, reminding her a petulant boy from her old life. He shouted, his father would come for him, with an army that would destroy them. She couldn't take any more of his voice filtering through the halls and saved their ears with her ward.

Ned and Hermione had taken the bodies of the boys down immediately and had them taken aside while pyres were built for them. They would burn their bodies properly that night, at least that was their intentions. As night fell, Maester Luwin approached them inside Ned's office where they were pouring over an agenda they were creating to restore Winterfell and help their people.

He had greeted them with a grateful smile and said he had a surprise for them. Hermione had dropped to her knees when little Rickon flew into the room followed by Bran who was being carried by Hodor and a woman she didn't know. A startled cry escaped her, tears immediately cascading down her cheeks as Ned rushed as quickly as he could to his sons.

Rickon clutched at his shirt, crying as Hodor brought Bran to her. She took the boy from the large man's arms and just sat with him on the floor, crying into his shoulder. Osha, the woman with them had explained that Theon couldn't find them and had burned two farm boys in their steed.

"We hid here in the crypts," she said smugly, "They wouldn't think to look under their dirty noses for the little lords."

That had been a month ago. Hermione had thrown herself into restoring Winterfell and helping its people into getting their normal lives back as much as she could. She handled their accounts, their imports and exports, they food stores, mediated any conflicts and overlooked the restoration of the buildings.

Ned had used the time to be with his sons who he hadn't seen since he left his home to become King Robert's Hand. He looked at Rickon who had grown so much, he barely recognised him. Bran was a little more reserved than he used to be and regaled his father with talks of being a wolf in his dreams and seeing a dark bird with three eyes.

"That's the Three-Eyed-Raved," Jojen Reed had explained to him. A week after they had taken back Winterfell, the Reed children had shown up to see Bran. Ned welcomed the children of his long-time friend with open arms but the story they told disturbed him.

"Bran must go beyond the wall," Jojen had said simply, "He must go to the Three-Eyed-Raven, you cannot stop it, it's his destiny."

"And how do you know so much about my son's destiny?" Ned had asked sceptically.

"I have the same gift as he does, though to a lesser extent. We were on our way to meet them in the woods north of Winterfell when she changed everything," he had gestured to her.

"Me?" she asked with a frown.

"Yes, you decided to reveal your magic and take back Winterfell. If you hadn't then we would have had to meet them north after their escape."

The simplicity in which he spoke unnerved her, his calm eyes penetrating her soul.

His sister was fiery and had to be separated from Osha on occasion but Bran finally had enough and told them to either shut up or leave. Suffice to say he earned his title of 'little lord' that day Hermione recalled with a smile.

It took two weeks of pestering and convincing but eventually they had worn Ned down enough to let Bran venture with him to the Wall.

"You'll come with me to the Wall, I need to speak with Jon. After that we will go and find your Three-Eyed-Raven."

Hermione was shocked, she never thought Lord Stark would agree to let his young child venture beyond the wall where wildlings and other creatures were said to roam free and prey on anything with a heartbeat.

"I have a feeling that he will go with or without me Hermione," he had told her tiredly, "At least if I am there, I can protect him."

They had left three days ago.

Hermione was waiting for Ramsey Snow to arrive with Sansa Stark. A raven had been sent to her saying that he would be assisting Sansa in holding Winterfell with an army from the Dreadfort until further notice but that she was to stay until they arrived.

"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell," she whispered into the night. She stood in front of the Weirwood tree, staring at the red tear stained surface. The magic that the tree exuded was comforting, especially since she had been away from Robb for so long. They had been together only a week before they were separated, hopefully she could be back to fight by his side soon.

She had visited the crypts often, paying special attention to Lyanna Stark. She was hoping to get some sort of sign or hint as to how to hatch her dragon eggs, she now knew it was possible, they had gotten word that Daenerys Targaryen had hatched three of her own across the narrow sea. Unfortunately, she had received nothing, not a hint, not a whisper, not even a feeling.

The full moon illuminated her figure as she approached the weeping tree. She wished she could do more in this war. she wanted to save more lives, fight for her family and resolve everything quickly so she could live in peace without fear of bringing children into a war ridden realm. She rested her a palm and her forehead against the smooth surface of the tree, she felt like weeping along with it.

"Why can't I fight like I used to," she whispered. Flashbacks of fighting in her previous life filtered through her mind, her emotions churning in her chest painfully. She let a few tears fell before quickly wiping them away.

"Ouch!" she cursed softly as a small weight bounced off her head. She looked down and saw a small white stick, small hints of crystallised red sap weaving through the cracks. The wind picked up and she leaned down to pick up the stick. It pulsated in her hand, magic lacing up her arm connecting to her very core.

"A wand?" she whispered quietly. The wind caressed her face as a smile broke out on her face. The wand wasn't complete, it still needed a core and she would happily wait for the perfect one to present itself. After whispering her thanks to the ancient tree, she made her way back to her room to place the wand back into her bottomless bag.

Before she could enter the hallways that would lead her to the dining room a burning feeling spread through her chest, Robb was calling for her. Fear flooded her very being, he vowed to only use his wristband when he really needed her. She didn't need to hide her magic now so she didn't care that she had startled two servants when she apparated away.

She landed inside Robb's tent and was immediately drawn into his arms, his lips coming down to encase hers. She was surprised at his aggressiveness but knew him well enough to know that he needed this and to be honest, so did she.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in closer and kissed him back just as eagerly. He made quick work of her clothes, throwing them over his shoulder, accidently ripping the shoulder of her dress. Heat pooled in her belly, fanning the flames that licked away at her very being. Her breath came out in short pants as his lips latched onto her neck, licking, sucking and nipping at the tender flesh.

"Robb," she breathed. He grunted in acknowledgement as she separated them for a brief moment to tug off his shirt. His strong arms drew her in closer as she fumbled with the ties of his breeches. He backed her up towards their bed as the ties came loose. Giving her a gentle push, he removed his pants and lay over her form kissing his way down her body. His mouth left burning trails down her flesh as he nipped at the curve of her breast. Her nipples were hard little pebbles, just begging for his attention.

His member was rock solid against her thigh and she rocked her hips to try and create the burning frictions that her body was begging for.

"You're mine," he growled as he left a particularly painful mark un the underside of her breast.

"Yours," she confirmed breathlessly as his fingers trailed down to play with her sensitive nub. Her hips arched off the bed at his touch, electricity racing up her spine. She tried to move her hands to grasp his member and rake her nails down hi back but he quickly detained them and held them in one hand above her head.

It drove her crazy not to be able to touch him and her frustrations grew as he continued to flick and tease her most sensitive spot. Her irritated and impatient growls turned into begging whimpers and mewls within minutes, she needed more.

The wetness pooled at her entrance as he finally lined up his cock to enter her. He pushed in slowly until her tightness encompassed him completely. He throbbed inside her and his breathing was laboured as he tried to keep still. All he wanted to do was shove his cock into her as hard and fast as he could but the need to make her feel good and not hurt her far outweighed that desire.

"Please," she begged as she rotated her hips. It was all the invitation he needed. The sounds of wet skin colliding, sharp, pleasure filled sounds and breathing ere all that could be heard in the tent. Robb grunted as breathed deeply, a thin lining of sweat forming on his skin. Hermione's pleasure was reaching new heights, she had always made love with Robb, it was slow and careful and loving, this was rough and fast and sudden, it was trilling.

"Robb!" she gasped as her orgasm built to unimaginable levels. Her cunt throbbed from the pleasure it was experiencing, the knot in her stomach ready to explode.

"Hermione," he growled in her ear as he increased his pace and hit a spot so deep inside of her that it instantly broke her. Her pleasure filled cry echoed in the tent as she rode out her high, his continuous thrusts letting it drag out. He groaned as her contracting walls gripped him tightly, begging him to release his seed deep into her channel.

And release he did.

He gave a loud shout as his thrusts became desperate and sporadic, his orgasm hitting him full force. She felt him explode deep inside her and groaned at the sensation. He lay above her for a few more minutes, letting him catch his breath and come down from his high. He flopped down beside her, his chest heaving and eyes closed in fulfillment.

Hermione curled herself around him and he slowly dropped his head to open her eyes and look at her. She saw so many emotions swirling in his blue depths, the most prominent one being sorrow.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. She gave him a gentle smile and placed a hand on his cheek. He leaned into her touch gave her a small kiss.

"It's ok," she assured him. She knew what he was apologising for. He was apologising for calling on her just to take her so aggressively.

"What happened Robb?" she asked after a few moments of peaceful silence.

"My mother betrayed me," he whispered.

"What did she do?" Hermione asked with a frown. He looked at her with eyes so full of hurt and betrayal that she felt like finding Lady Stark and cursing right then and there no matter who was there to see it. Curiosity burned through her though, what could his mother have done to warrant such a reaction from her son.

"She freed your uncle, she let Jamie Lannister go."


	18. Chapter 17

Okay guys, I am so sorry for the horrid lack of updated, I have been dealing with some pretty messy stuff at home. I promise to start getting back into it, I have everything in my head, I have a few more chapters to go before we divert into splitting the stories.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Game of Thrones.

Hermione Granger was known for her fiery temper and piercing glares. Late to class? Glare. Homework left until the last minute, the lecture of a lifetime. Betrayal by those they trusted? That's a hex to the face. Death Eaters coming for her friends and family? Death and maiming were delivered to them on a silver platter.

Now she had her sights set on her own good mother, Lady Catelyn Stark.

"_She freed your uncle, she let Jamie Lannister go."_

Her husband's blue eyes haunted her thoughts as she marched through the war camp the following morning. She should have gone back to Winterfell until Sansa showed up but her anger towards Lady Stark's betrayal was clouding her mind. She couldn't get those eyes, those tired, deep blue eyes staring her down in the dim light of his tent, croaking out that his own mother had betrayed him.

What did she think she was doing? The crown had nothing to bargain for, they didn't have anything that Robb wanted. If they still had Sansa it may be a different story or even Arya but they didn't.

She let out a frustrated growl as the soldiers parted to let her through with Robb and Cera trailing behind her. They didn't question how she was suddenly there when she should have been in Winterfell, they just wanted to get out of her way.

What the bloody hell was the woman thinking! Sure, Hermione felt a small pang of relief to know her uncle wasn't festering in his own shit anymore but she wasn't an idiot. They were in a war and her good mother had all but given their enemy what they wanted.

The winds blew harshly against the tents around her, the fires flickering dangerously high. Oh yes, Hermione Granger had been known for her temper but Hermione Stark nee Lannister was about to inspire fear in the hearts of men with hers.

She wrenched open the main war tent entrance flap with a flick of her wrist and immediately spotted the target of her ire. Catelyn Stark sat in a chair, surrounded by the Lords of Robb's Bannermen looking pale, shaken and even slightly angry. Her eyes betrayed her emotions, no matter how hard she tried to put on a strong front, she was scared.

"Do you have any idea what you have done?" Hermione asked her, eyes full of steel and a voice as calm as the eye of a storm.

"I have given our family a chance-"

"How so?" Hermione interrupted with a raised brow, "By setting the only valuable hostage of the enemy free?"

"I thought for sure you would be happy that your uncle has been freed," Catelyn sniped back at the young woman.

"Oh certainly," she agreed, "There is a part of me that is overjoyed that he is not rotting in his own filth anymore but there is a much bigger part of me, a much smarter part of me that knows that holding him was the only chance you had at keeping your family safe from my grandfather."

"King Joffrey-"

"Is a spoiled, dumb and cruel little twit," Hermione growled, "Do you really think he has any true power now that my grandfather is in on this war? A war that you started or has that slipped your mind, good mother?"

"I am Lady Stark and you will address me with the proper respect Lady Lannister-"

"And I am Hermione Stark, Queen of the North and you will answer my questions and show me the respect that a real Lady should," Hermione shouted at her. The fires gently rising from the lit candles flashed and grew to flicker almost 3 feet high before they died back down in time with Hermione closing her eyes and calming her breathing, her husband laying a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. His eyes watching his mother, steely and cold as her own Tully blue stared back at him in shock.

"You will let her speak to me like this Robb?"

"She is your Queen and I am your King; you will address us as such," he responded coolly. Hermione knew he was hurting, torn between wanting to forgive his mother and punish her for her betrayal.

"You started this war Lady Stark," Hermione continued quietly and calmly, "It may have been to get justice for Bran and I understand that however you also need to understand that you turned this into your families war, your sons war and you had no place, no right, in freeing a prisoner, let alone one as valuable as Jamie Lannister."

"I did it for Robb," Lady Stark cried as tears finally fell from her eyes. Hermione waited for the woman to continue, grasping Robb's hand in her own as the Lords watching on with mixed expressions. Anger, betrayal and pity as they looked at Lady Stark and fear, wonder and pride as they gazed upon their Queen.

"He promised me he would call off his family, to get them to call off the war and let us go home to live out our days in Winterfell,"

"And you believed him?" Hermione asked incredulously, "The man who pushed your son out of a window, cut your husband and men down in the street and butchered who knows how many of your men on the battlefield?"

"How promised," she tried to say again.

"He may have had a change of heart Lady Stark but my cousin who sits on the Iron Throne will never allow the north its independence, will never allow anyone to go home and feel safe again and will never stop until he has what he wants, which is dominion over everything and everyone. My grandfather is even worse, he started a war over a son who he hates, what do you think he will for his most valued heir? He won't care that you let him go, he won't care for Uncle Jamie's words to call him off. No, he will want revenge, he will want the North and all our allies crushed."

Catelyn couldn't look the young girl in the eyes as her words sunk in. Hermione looked at the woman coldly as the only thing that could be heard in the room was the older woman's soft sobs and. Hermione still wasn't convinced that her good mother understood the position she had put them in.

_And who are you, the proud lord said_

_That I must bow so low_

_Only a cat of a different coat_

_That's all the truth I know_

The lords snapped their heads to look at their queen as she softly sung the infamous Lannister song. The Rains of Castamere, a song to remind the realm of the power her grandfather and the Lannister's held as they crushed an entire house and ground them into dust, rendering them extinct. Catelyn finally stopped crying and let her shoulders slump, her eyes gazing at nothing, just open wide in realisation as Hermione continued to sing.

Robb's hand grasped hers so tightly that she thought a finger or two may snap but she didn't stop until the song was finished.

"You had best remember that song good mother," Hermione warned, "I fear that the next one they sing will be about the fall of the North."

Catelyn let out one chocked little sob before nodding, her eyes closing tightly. The Lords looked at the scene, unsure of what to do.

"What be her punishment your Grace?" Lord Karstark growled out, "Jamie Lannister killed my sons and she let him go."

"One of those sons died on the battlefield at my side, do not dishonour his memory by pretending any different," Robb stepped forward, "As for your other son, I cannot bring him back and I am sorry for your loss. My mother will be imprisoned, kept under watch until we get to Riverrun where I will hand her over to Lord Tully to be held until the war is over."

"So she gets to be protected by her family, and sit in a nice room in a castle while my sons murderer goes free?" he bellowed.

"You will watch your tone while addressing your King," Hermione threatened. The man glanced at her with hatred and disgust before looking back to Robb.

"So you let your little Lannister whore fight your battles now do you boy?" he sneered.

"Lord Karstark, that is enough. Hold your tongue before you are imprisoned for treason along side Lady Stark."

Roose Bolton had come forward and grasped the man's arm roughly. Robb approached the pair, danger and a promise of death reflecting in his blue orbs.

"You ever speak of my wife like that again and I will have you hung by your own insides for everyone to see," Robb threatened.

"I'm sure it's just the grief speaking your Grace," Lord Bolton tried to placate. The other lords came forward to drag the near frothing man away.

"Take my mother to her tent and double the guards, she is not to go anywhere, see anyone or speak to anyone unless I say so," Robb commanded. Men nodded and grasped the shaking woman's arms to escort her away. The adrenaline coursing through Hermione's veins was finally subsiding and she grasped her head as a wave of dizziness overcame her.

"Lady Hermione?" Roose asked as he caught the stumbling woman. Robb rushed over as the guards paused in their escort of Lady Stark. Hermione tried blinking the dots out of her eyes as the other lords in their presence stood still to watch.

"I'm fine," she panted as a hot flush was added to her spinning head. She was being held up by Robb and Lord Bolton, grasping each of their arms.

"Someone fetch the Maester," Roose commanded before something warm and wet splashed down onto his boots. He held in his disgust as his queen continued to heave and vomit over his feet, coating them in a lovely layer of stomach acid and half-digested food.

-WAR OF THREE QUEENS—

The camp had been in a small state of chaos since Hermione had lost her breakfast all over Roose Bolton. Robb was pacing outside of the Maester's tent, Cera having escorted him out since he was smothering Hermione and distracting the Maester.

"Stay," she had pointed at him and commanded before walking back into the tent to tend to her queen. Robb had tried to go back inside but was pushed back out by the waiting red headed woman.

"No," was all she said as she gently pushed him back outside to wait with the other lords. Well, all except Lord Karstark and Lord Bolton.

"How long is this going to take," Robb growled as he paced back and forth in front of the tent and hour later.

"I'm sure the Maester is working as fast as he can," Daniel tried to calm his King. Before Robb could retort, Cera emerged from the tent and gave him the all clear.

"Just don't stress her out," she warned him with narrowed eyes, "King or not, you do anything to hurt them and I'll kill you myself."

Robb didn't care that she had just spoke treason right to his face, he had to see his wife. He pushed passed her and entered the tent where he found Hermione laying on some furs and the Maester speaking with her quietly.

Upon seeing his King enter he said his goodbyes to Hermione and left the tent to give the couple some privacy. Robb dropped to his knees beside Hermione and have her forehead a gentle kiss.

"How are you feeling my love?" he asked. Hermione's tired eyes looked up at him with a small smile.

"I am fantastic," she replied, "I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused, I think we owe Lord Bolton new boots."

Robb laughed in relief that his wife seemed to be just fine. He sat beside her on the bed, grasped her hands and looked down at her.

"Did the Maester say what happened?" he asked quietly.

"Oh yes," she said as she moved to sit, "Turns out I should get used to this."

"What!" Robb exclaimed in alarm, "Are you sick? What is it? Do I need to get more medical supplied?"

"Calm down Robb," she giggled at his sudden panicked state, "You didn't let me finish."

"Ok, alright," he said, taking in a deep breath to calm himself, "Tell me what ails you my love."

"What do you think of the name Rodrick?" she asked with a smile.

"What?" Rob was stumped. His wife was asking his opinion about a name when she should be telling him what ailed her. He wondered if he should go and get the Maester to check her again, afraid the illness was doing something to her beautiful mind.

"Rodrick," she repeated, "Or what about Lyanna for a girl?"

"Lyanna for a girl…" he trailed off with a frown. Hermione looked at him with a knowing grin on her face and his eyes fell as her hands moved to rest on her stomach. A few seconds ticked by before his eyes widened and snapped to meet hers.

"Are you?" he asked tentatively.

A shout escaped him as his wife nodded, confirming that she was indeed pregnant, carrying his child, his son or daughter. His eyes filled with tears as he leapt from the bed, taking her with him and spinning her around in the air.

"Do that much more and you will be needing new armour," she warned as another wave of nausea rolled over her. He quickly placed her on the ground and grasped her upper arms in excitement.

"You have no idea how happy you have made me," he whispered to her. Hermione felt the tears well up in her eyes at the level of love in his voice and reflecting in his eyes. He dropped to his knees and gently moved a hand to rub over her tummy.

"Hi there little one, I'm your dad," he said gently, "I can't wait to meet you. I'll teach you how to wield a sword and ride on a horse, we may even find a little direwolf to call your own. I bet you'll look like your mother, that will be good because she is absolutely stunning. If you turn out to be a girl though I think I will need to brush up on my swordsmanship when you get old enough for suiters, no way will anyone be worthy of you. You're my little prince or princess and I will protect you until my last breath."

Hermione felt her heart constricting at the scene as she placed her hands over his. She never got the chance to feel love like this in her first life, never got to experience parenthood. She was both excited and scared, they were still in the middle of a war after all. This child gave her more determination to win it and bring peace to the lands.

Robb looked up into her eyes and she couldn't help but wish that this moment would last forever.

She should have known that it never would.


	19. Chapter 18

After this chapter the story will diverge. There will be a JonxHermione version and a RobbxHermioen version. This one will stay as JonxHermione as originally intended but I will either post a second story for RobbxHermione or post 2 chapters at a time and call one Jon and one Robb. What would you guys prefer?

**Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or Harry Potter. **

Chapter 18

Robb had forbidden her from going back to Winterfell. Instead, he sent a small party of men to escort his mother back to their homeland to keep her under lock and key and scrutiny. He had written to Sansa; she was now the Stark in charge of their castle, and told her the situation, explaining that their mother was effectively a traitor of war.

They got word weeks later that Ramsey Snow had secured Winterfell and restoration was near completion, thanks to Hermione's early intervention. Lady Catelyn was bound to her chambers, she had tried to send a Raven to her husband but Maester Luwin had regretfully burned it.

Sansa had been upset when her mother had returned and been informed of the situation. Ramsey had been there a week and honestly, he creeped her out and she was glad for her mothers' company. When she had found out exactly why she had been brought back she had fallen silent and distanced herself. She was angry, confused and torn. Her time in King's Landing had taught her much, and even she knew it was one of the highest acts of stupidity and betrayal.

She wished King Robert had never come to Winterfell.

Rickon was learning how to read and write and would practise by sending letters to Hermione and Robb every day. He expressed his hope for them to win, that they were safe and how much he wanted all his family to come home soon.

'Hopefully we will be together again soon little wolf,' Hermione thought as she read his latest letter. She was now officially into her third trimester and the Maester was never far away while Robb continued to lead their army to victory. Her bump was now not only visible but bulging enough to look like she was carrying her own direwolf under there and for the love of the Seven her breasts were sore.

Robb's protectiveness had skyrocketed. He was fully aware she could hold her own and take care of herself but his paternal instincts were in overdrive. Her guard had tripled, as stated before the Maester was never far from her and he had even limited her use of magic.

Now that had been an argument to remember.

She had compromised with the guard and the Maester but she drew a line with her magic. He had no right to tell her what she could and couldn't do with the magic coursing through her veins. Not being able to practise magic would be like not breathing. Her emotions were making her overly sensitive and instead of demonstrating her anger and frustrations she had promptly burst into tears and started throwing things at Robb.

Cera and Daniel had been the ones to calm her down and talk some sense into her. Robb's explanation had been crass and almost like word vomit, theirs wasn't.

So, she conceded. She toned down on her spell casting and instead focused on enchantments and potions. Sometimes she had to get someone to take over the potions for her if the fumes got to be too much, and unsurprisingly, Daniel had volunteered. Unsurprising for her but he had surprised everyone else.

'Some things can transcend a lifetime,' she thought wistfully. Daniel actually enjoyed his potion making with Hermione and it brought back so many painful memories of who he used to be, of who she used to be.

'I'm not her anymore,' Hermione reminded herself, 'Not exactly.'

She looked around at her surroundings, hers and Robbs war tent, parked outside of the Twins.

Hermione thought back to what brought her here. She had been woken one night to a commotion that dragged herself and Robb from their tent. What awaited her made her skin crawl and her anger rise. Lord Karstark had butchered two young Lannister boys. Not on the battlefield but in their cells, unarmed and innocent. He had screamed and sworn and threatened Robb until spit dripped from his lips.

Hermione had tears running down her face as she stood to the side, Robb having taken control of the situation. Her hands rested on her tummy where her babe grew. He would be half Lannister, half Stark but was that enough. Would Karstark come after their child once they were born too.

The other Lords tried to tell them to simply lock him up, keep him hostage in order to keep the Karstark warriors. Without their numbers there was no way they could win this war, unless Robb made peace with the Frey's.

'We have nothing to make peace for,' Hermione had thought, however, once again she had found out that Lady Catelyn had gone behind her sons back to bargain their crossing of the Twins before Hermione had re-joined them.

She felt a small pang of anger and jealousy about her good mother promising _her_ intended to someone else.

Robb had found her jealously endearing but it had only earned him an icy glare from his wife.

Making peace with the Frey's. She questioned Robb about how they were going to do that. His uncle had suggested to barter with another marriage which earned glares from the other Lords. It wasn't unwarranted either. They had arrived at Riverrun only to hear that stupidity must run in the family.

Robbs uncle and Lady Catelyn's brother, Lord Edmure Tully, had ignored Robb's orders and battled against the Mountain. Robb had been furious and dressed him down as if he was speaking to an impudent child. He had gained a lot of respect from the other Lords that day, respect that had waivered when Robb ordered the death of Lord Karstark and lost his men.

"We cannot offer him a King anymore Your Grace," Lord Umber had grumbled.

"But we can offer him a Lord," Robb smirked, "Lord Edmure, you have far surpassed the beginning age of which you could take a wife, I think it's time you continued on the Tully line."

"You can't-"

"I can," Robb snapped, "And it will be your honour to serve your King and your people."

And so, they travelled to the Twins and negotiated a marriage between one of Lord Frey's daughters to Edmure Tully. Hermione couldn't count the amount of times she had to fight off a headache from hearing him bitch and moan about his upcoming nuptials.

"Please Robb, I'm begging you," Hermione pleaded to her husband as they got ready to head out. They were on their way to Walder Frey's castle for the wedding and feast and her gut had been churning all day. Robb had put it down to her pregnancy but Hermione knew it was something else.

"It has been requested by Lord Frey that he be kept there, I don't like it either but I understand," Robb sighed.

"Grey Wind should never be locked in a kennel at his size Robb," Hermione continued, "Please something feels wrong."

"Hermione," Robb groaned.

"I would feel safer knowing he was roaming the woods," she interrupted, "I can use a simple spell to transfigure something to look like him and put that in the Kennel."

Robb frowned, torn between respecting his hosts wishes and listening to his wife. He weighed his option, not liking the fact that Hermione would be using a spell, not liking that his closest companion would be locked up and not liking the fact that he would be dishonouring the Stark name should he not comply to Lord Frey's demand.

"Fine," he conceded. Hermione wrapped her arms around her husband in appreciation, well as much as she could considering her large baby bump got in the way. Hermione and Robb set Grey Wind free, instructing him to stay in the forest until they returned for him. The wolf looked at them with cool eyes before trotting off into the darkness.

It was a horse Hermione transfigured to look like the beast they had just sent away. They locked him in the Kennel as instructed and attended the wedding.

"He doesn't seem to care about what his bride looks like now," Robb muttered with an amused grin. He watched his uncle laugh and look upon his new wife's face with excitement.

"Because she is pretty," Hermione rolled her eyes as she rested her hands on her tummy. Robb looked down at her, adoration and unconditional love shining in his eyes. Hermione didn't think she would ever get used to that look, the one that sent shivers of excitement through her and filled her with warmth.

The bedding ceremony came son enough. Hermione didn't particularly like the tradition and was thankful that Robb hadn't allowed it at their wedding.

"You need to eat something," Robb chided as he pushed Hermione's plate of food towards her.

"I'm not hungry Robb," she said quietly.

"I know you have a bad feeling about tonight but look at how well it's going," Robb sighed, "And nothing can happen to us here, we are guests in Lord Frey's home and under his protection."

"Hm," Hermione grunted as she saw Lord Bolton swiftly leave the room. Her frown deepened when she saw the Frey men close and lock the double doors behind him.

"Robb," she started before the music started up again.

Her stomach dropped. She grasped onto Robb's arm tightly and looked up at him. Her heart pounded in her chest and her husband slowly caught on to the music surrounding them.

"The Rains-" was all she got out before a large scream erupted from her throat. She looked down and noticed a knife hilt protruding from her stomach. The room erupted into chaos as time seemed to slow down for the young witch. She grasped her stomach as her husband fell beside her, his body littered with arrows.

She faintly heard someone yell about keeping her and the 'wolf spawn' alive but she didn't care. Around her, men fell, poisoned, stabbed and beaten to death. She felt her magic start to crackle around her, her emotions running way too high.

"Se dōros!" she shouted as tears streamed down her face. She felt hands on her arms, pulling her back and away from the chaos and did what she could to fight back.

"It's me," Cera growled in her ear, "I need to get you out of here."

"Se dōros!" Hermione kept shouting, sobs falling from her mouth every so often. The Frey and Bolton men, the men who had obviously betrayed them, shouted in alarm as the bodies of those they were butchering disappeared. The flames from the torches grew tall and scorching hot as the men started to retreat, inadvertently clearing a path for the two women.

Hermione could barely walk as she continued to shout out her chant. She had more than once almost slipped on a puddle of blood as the red-haired warrior continued to remove her from the scene.

"And what do we have here," a low voice growled out. The two women turned to see Lord Bolton glaring at them.

"You were supposed to be captured," he muttered, "Could they be any more useless."

Cera stood protectively in front of her injured Queen but without her weapons she knew they didn't have a change of escape.

"I'm sorry my Queen," she whispered as more Bolton men came to back up their Lord. Hermione glared at the man and hunched over from the pain in her stomach and her heart. She grabbed Cera's hand and spoke softly.

"Traitor."

The two women reappeared surrounded by snow and trees. Cera vomited near a tree from her disorientation, still not used to the sudden transportation.

When she straightened, she turned to see Hermione hunched over, blood pooling around her feet. She rushed to her Queen and helped her to the ground, Hermione pulled a small pouch from under her skirts where it had been tied to her leg and reached her arm in until it reached her shoulder.

"Fucking hell," Cera cursed. She would never get used to this magic shit. Hermione chugged down a few vials and then ripped her dress open to see the wound that plagued her. She tipped another vial onto the skin and Cera's eyes widened as the skin stitched itself together leaving only a tin red and inflamed line.

"Why wont the pain go away," Hermione cried moments later, "Those potions should have healed me."

Cera looked at the young woman for a moment before nothing the pattern of the blood on Hermione's dress.

"I don't think it's you that needs saving," she whispered.

Hermione cried out as a sudden pain rushed through her lower abdomen. Her blood went cold, her eyes wide and heart nearly stopping.

"No," she murmured, "No, no, no."

"His only chance is to get him out of there," Cera muttered as her Queen continued to cry.

"It's too early," she kept repeating.

"I'm a warrior not a Septa or healer," Cera mumbled in her panic. She ripped off her cloak and lay it under her Queen, urging her legs up and out. Blood pooled out of the Queen's lower region. Cera could see the top of the child's head and held her hands out to catch him. She didn't know when to tell Hermione to push, she didn't know how to tell her to breath but the two of them did the best they could amongst their panic and pain.

"He's almost here your Grace," Cera shouted as the small body of a baby was just over half exposed. Hermione cried, screamed and pushed until she just couldn't any more. She was tired, cold and in immense physical and emotional pain.

Cera was quiet as she wrapped the small baby in a blanket she had found in Hermione's bag of wonders. It was grey with black stitching of a direwolf howling on it, made from the softest wool, a present for the future prince or princess from their Aunt Sansa.

"Cera," Hermione called weakly as her head spun.

"Cera!" she called again, this time more urgently as the red-head stayed silent.

"I'm sorry," was all she said as she placed the small babe on his mother's chest. Hermione didn't know how much more heartache she could take as she looked down at her stillborn son. He had dark auburn hair like his father, pale skin and such tiny fingers. He would have been beautiful had it not been from the grey skin partially hidden by his mother's blood, he had suffocated inside her womb, the trauma from the stab being too much for him to bare.

Silent tears ran down her cheeks as she clutched her little boy to her chest. Cera covered them both with a blanket and started to build a fire for them. Her Queens bag of tricks seemed to have everything, how she pulled out exactly what she needed every time was still a mystery.

She stayed propped up against a tree that night, the fire burning brightly as her young queen cried herself to sleep with her baby in her arms. She checked her every now and again and saw the blood flow had stopped but her Queen was a mess down there. She had no idea where they were and she certainly had no idea what to do or where to go.

Her eyes were drooping by the time the sun started to rise. Her adrenaline and energy almost completely gone.

"Cera," a small voice called out for her. Cera's eyes immediately snapped to attention and she rushed over to her Queen. She saw the blank look in her Queens eyes as she struggled to sit up. Cera assisted her as best she could and shakily took the cold baby from her arms.

Hermione took out a change of clothes and a few more potion vials.

"What do they do?" Cera asked quietly.

"They will give me energy and heal me enough to allow me to move on my own," Hermione replied monotonously. Cera had never seen her like this, so broken and so…defeated. The young woman swallowed the potions quickly and took a moment before getting up and changing into a warmer dress and cloak. She fetched a set of clothes for Cera and then took her child back.

Where are we?" Cera asked gently.

"Near the Wall," Hermione stated.

"The Wall!" Cera gaped. How the fuck did Hermione have enough magic to teleport them all the way to the Wall.

"We aren't quite there, maybe a day's walk from it, I didn't have enough to get us there," she murmured quietly.

"And the others? I saw the men disappearing," Cera pushed with a frown, she didn't like questioning her Queen but she also needed to know what was going on so she could protect her.

"'Se dōros' is High Valyrian for 'The Wall'. I have been spending the last few months enchanting wristbands for the entire army. In case of emergency all I had to was call out and they would be transported to the Wall." Hermione explained, "I never thought I would have to use it."

Her voice cracked at the end and Cera couldn't stop herself, she enveloped the small woman in her arms and let a fresh wave of tears stain her clothes. The baby was clutched between them and Cera almost didn't catch her Queens next words.

"I need you to build a pyre."

"What!"

Cera shock radiated through her as Hermione's words reached her. she knew who the pyre was for but…she knew the Starks had a strong tradition of burying their family in the crypts at-wait. Winterfell! Lord Bolton had betrayed them, Lady Sansa, Lady Catelyn and Lord Rickon were in Winterfell which was being held by Ramsey Snow, Bolton's bastard.

"I cannot carry his body around," Hermione continued, oblivious to her friend's thoughts, "I just can't do it."

"I understand," Cera murmured as she pulled away and mechanically started to collect the required materials to build a pyre fit for a Prince.

Night had fallen by the time Cera finished building the Pyre. Hermione placed her small baby in the centre of it, wrapped in his Aunts blanket. Cera went to light it but Hermione stopped her.

She produced three items from her bag and Cera couldn't help but exclaim.

"Are those Dragon Eggs!"

"Turned to stone over time," Hermione mumbled, "My mother was a Targaryen so my little Prince is part dragon. It's only right he be protected by them in the next life."

She placed the three eggs on the pyre and gave Cera the go ahead to light it. The fire caught quickly, engulfing the wood, the eggs and the small child within its orange glow.

Hermione felt numb, like she was in a trance. She let her glamour drop, her skin lightening a few shades, her eyes turning a bright violet and her hair falling in pale curls down her back. Cera watched this woman change before her eyes and was frozen to the spot, she didn't even notice the men moving in the trees.

"Who are you!" a voice shouted to them. Cera whipped her head around to see three Watchers closing in on them.

"My name is Cera and this is Queen Hermione Stark," Cera tried to explain.

"Yeah?" one of them retorted, "Looks like a bloody Targaryen to me."

More voices started to surround them and Cera saw members of the Northern Army emerging from the trees, some carrying the injured and some barely clinging to life.

"That's our Queen," some of them shouted.

"She saved our lives!" another called out. Cera knew that voice, it was Daniel. He strode up to her and turned to face the Crows.

"Our Queen possesses a great magic and saved us from the betrayal and slaughter of the Bolton's and Frey's," he announced, "She sent us all here because she believed we would be safe. As such we are requesting sanctuary at the Wall from the good men of the Nights Watch."

"You know we cannot get involved in the realms politics," one of them said with narrowed eyes.

"But you are obligated to protect the people of the realm," Daniel retorted. They went back and forth, trying to come to an agreement without noticing the object of their salvation begin to move.

"Your Grace" a flurry of voices shouted. Cera, Daniel and the Watchers turned to see the woman step into the tall flames of the pyre, her eyes blank and tears running down her pale cheeks. Cera made a move to follow her but Daniel pulled her back. They watched as smoke rose from the flames, the bodies inside invisible to their eyes.

"What do we do now?" one of the Northern's asked.

"Take the injured to Castle Black, Grenn will show you the way," one of the Watchers announced. The men nodded and took their injured and followed young Grenn. The remaining men decided to wait until the pyre died down, to pay their last respects to their Queen and the fallen Prince.

The Watchers stayed with them, they wanted to monitor them, make sure they weren't there to cause trouble.

They all mulled around the area, Daniel and Cera propped up against a tree trunk, their heads hung low and their eyes tired and sad.

"What is that!" One of the Watchers shouted as the fire finally died down. Embers still danced in the air, ash staining the white snow black. Cera and Daniel stood quickly and looked around for the cause of the alarm.

A small beastly cry followed by a sound close to a ticking noise caught their attention. They turned to where the burnt-out pyre had been and gaped. Sitting in the snow, covered in ash, was their Queen, Hermione.

Her clothes had been burned away, her hair matted and her head tucked into her knees. As she raised her head to look at her audience another small head peaked out from her lap. The beast had blood red scales and bright golden eyes. Another one appeared from behind her left shoulder with deep emerald scales and stormy eyes. Their eyes saw a small movement in the snow at Hermione's feet as a pure white dragon scaled its way up her mother's legs to nestle next to the red beast.

"Dragons!" every one in the area gasped.

"I thought they were just a myth."

"The Dragon Queen in Essos was said to have hatched three dragons."

"I thought they were only rumours."

"Well the fuckers look real to me."

"Hermione?" Cera asked as said woman got to her feet, her nude body shivering in the cold. The dragons covered her chest and sat on her shoulder and Hermione finally locked eyes with her friend, a new fire shining in brightly.

"My name was Hermione Lannister. People thought me to be malicious and evil. My name was Hermione Stark and everyone thought me honourable and smart. Now they shall know me as Hermione Targaryen, a Mother of Dragons and Protector of the North."

"Queen in the North!" someone shouted after a moment. Cera was surprised, the northern folk and Lords would never trust a Targaryen. Maybe knowing Hermione, knowing what she did to save them and seeing her birth the dragons swayed them.

"Queen in the North!" they chanted.

"We will have our revenge," she muttered fiercely, "I will rain down fire and magic upon you all. There's nothing stopping me now."


	20. Apology - Not Discontinued or Abandoned

**Please Read:**

I need to make an apology to you guys. I said I would never post just for the sake of update, that I valued quality over anything else and I feel that the last chapter I gave you was a cop out. It was rushed, not very well thought out and unfair to you guys. So, because of that I have decided to rewrite the chapter and split it up into two.

I will hopefully have these to you by next weekend and at the same time I am aiming to have the first Chapter of the alternate timeline up so keep an eye out for that one when this one updates.

I have full intentions and ideas to finish this story, I know what I want to do on both versions all the way through but my mental health has not been what it used to be for the last few months.

You guys have no idea what your loyalty and words mean to me, especially when I get confused because some people are saying 'She's too Mary Sue' and then another says 'She's under-powered'. Or whenever I get general negative reviews. I don't mind these, I really don't. I know what I write is not going to be everyone's cup of tea and I can't make everyone happy but I will do my best to try and represent the characters in the best way possible in order to tell the story I want to tell.

Thank you all for sticking through this with me, you make my day with your alerts and words and I hope I can bring even a little bit of happiness to yours.

I will see you all next week with 2-3 new chapters for War of Three Queens and War of Three Queens – Wolves of the North.

Your ever loving author

xXNotTodayXx


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